Brand New Start
by Gummi Baron
Summary: AU.Mr. Gold has lived many a year thinking Belle dead. When she reappears suddenly into his life, he wants nothing more than to continue their life where it left off. However, there are some things which are better forgotten, and Gold realizes that the Curse may actually be more of a blessing in the end.
1. Chapter 1

Thunder rumbled in the distance as Gold locked up his shop. Storybrooke had been plagued by torrential downpours all day, and he'd hurried out the moment the rain stopped. With any luck, he'd make it to his destination before the next storm hit.

He'd had to leave a bit earlier than he expected to arrive at his appointment in time, but he didn't mind. His bad leg had become stiff from sitting inside all day, and he had decided to take the reprieve from the rain to stretch his legs. Besides, being early gave the edge in a deal; and in this case he'd be able to take one last look around the property he'd decided to buy before the seller arrived. This was his life; business. Getting the upper hand was something he excelled in;had always excelled in, in this world and the last.

He didn't care about the money. It hadn't been about fortunes for him for a long, long time, but it helped to pass the time. Time, fortune and power were the three things he had in abundance; two he had unlimited quantities of and he used them to pursue obtaining as much of the third as he could.

He walked for several quiet blocks without passing a single soul, his cane clicking in step with his footfalls on the cobblestones. He glanced at it idly as he walked. He didn't mind the cane in this world; here, it was a sign of status. People saw him walking with a cane and almost didn't notice the limp he'd carried for most of his adult life. It fit in with the appearance he'd so carefully manicured; the cane matched the suits and the ties and the nice shoes that, he noted sourly, were slowly becoming muddy during his journey. He'd have to clean them before he arrived at his destination because, after all, appearances were the first line of intimidation. Not that he needed intimidation to scare the townspeople of Storybrooke anymore. After all, he owned most of their homes and livelihoods. He didn't need magic or frightening appearances in this world to get respect; he was a shrewd businessman and had cultivated a reputation for being ruthless and uncompromising when it came to people attempting to break deals with him. Those who weren't already under his carefully managed web stayed away from him, afraid of finding themselves in his debt.

He passed from one street to the next, glancing up at Storybrooke's one and only grocery store. It was small but well stocked, and the items came at a premium because of that. He'd seen to that much, and it was a source of good steady revenue. He made a mental note to bother the owner on his way home; the last thing any of the employees wanted was their owner stuck inside with them during a rainstorm, and their nervousness would give him pleasure.

A woman hurried out of the doors as he was appraising the building, and he idly noticed two things about her. One, he wasn't familiar with her, which meant that she was one of the few in town that had managed to not yet become in his debt. The second was that she turned away from the small parking lot beside the store and began briskly walking down the street in the opposite direction he was going, trying to push her wavy brown hair from her eyes as she went.

_No car, grocery shopping in this weather?_ He wondered to himself, mildly curious.

She moved with a clumsy gait; but that may have been the two overflowing bags of groceries in her arms. It didn't seem likely that she could see very well around them. She was, at least, an intelligent woman for choosing this small break in the weather to run home. He hoped for her sake that she lived nearby; the air was already becoming heavy with the electricity from the oncoming storm.

It wasn't ten steps later that Gold's reverie was broken by the sound of the young woman's shriek. He spun around just in time to see her foot slip from the curb of the road, sending her unceremoniously into the gutter amid a shower of broken glass and ripped paper bags. He checked his watch and stifled a sigh of frustration as he habitually turned on his heel to cross the street. No matter how late he was going to be, he was a gentleman first.

If someone was in need, he had a responsibility to help them. After all, some of his best deals bad been struck with those who had thought he was a good-hearted man. While few and far between, there were still some in Storybrooke who had yet to know of his less than citizen of the year reputation, and this woman was one of them.

He analyzed her as he trudged across the wet street towards her, idly registering her long chestnut colored hair and navy colored dress as she sat with her back to him, apparently in shock in the wet gutter of the road. She was gazing down at herself as if she couldn't believe how she had come to end up there. The mud and water was soaking into the fabric of her dress which was a shame because, he thought idly, it was a beautiful color he'd been fond of for as long as he cared to remember. She was trying unsuccessfully to remove her wet curls from her eyes when he reached her, but her hands were streaked with mud and she didn't seem to be accomplishing much. A daffodil petal had stuck itself to the back of her hand. It was a nearly comedic sight.

"Dearie," He called out pleasantly, so as not to frighten her when he placed his hand on her arm a moment later and offered to help her stand. "That was quite the tumble, are you alright?" He noted that her groceries were utterly ruined; a cheap paperback book floated sullenly in the murky water amid a few bruised apples.

That was when she clumsily stood with his aid and turned to face him, and his stomach twisted in a way it hadn't in centuries.

He no longer registered the mud and water that clung to her sodden dress and dripped in rivulets onto his shoes as she leaned against his offered hand for support. He didn't hear her words of thanks or her embarrassed, self-aware murmurs at her own clumsiness. The world took on a strange hue. His ears filled with white noise. His mind shut out his errand, the rain, the aching protest from his leg as he dropped his cane in the muddy water of the street. He only registered one thing.

It was her. She was alive.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Belle." _Her name escaped his lips like a prayer, and he took her in his arms. "Is it really you?"

Of course it was her. He'd know those clear blue eyes anywhere. It was her. It was his Belle, back from the dead. His heart felt as if it might burst. _Belle!_

It took several seconds for him to realize that her hands were trying to gently push him away. He let her go, confused. She took a step back and politely smiled at him in clear embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, but...do we know each other?"

The world turned in a strange away again and Gold felt every joy he'd ever felt being sucked from him, dismay taking its place. He took a step after her, raising his hand to her, and mentally noted he'd stepped ankle-deep into the same puddle he'd just saved her from.

It was her. She was alive. _But she didn't remember him. _The curse had brought her back from the grave, and it had taken her memories. Taken them as easily as it had taken the rest of the people of Storybrooke.

He mentally shook himself, but was unable to remove the look of wonder and confusion entirely from his face.

"No." He said quietly, more to himself than her. He dropped his hand and removed his foot from the puddle. "No, but you will."

"Pardon?" Belle asked, ever so polite, even when he was certain he was coming off as a lunatic.

"Never you mind, Dearie," Gold responded, and his voice trembled. He cleared this throat. "Are you alright?"

It was then that Belle seemed to notice her ruined groceries and wet, sodden clothes. He'd meant emotionally, mentally, was she alright? Was she happy here? How had she managed to avoid him for twenty eight years in this small town? There were a million questions contained in those three little words, but Belle simply knelt to pick up the dented cans and bruised fruit in response.

"So clumsy of me.."

He was at her side in a second, sidestepping the water and grasping her upper arm gently.

"Leave the lot, dearie. It's fared worse than you, it seems. Groceries can be replaced."

_But you can't be. Not in a thousand worlds over a million years._ Oh, the things he wanted to say to this poor, poor young woman who had no idea who he was. She'd think him some crazy old pervert.

_Isn't that what you are?_ A voice in his asked him. He kept himself from scowling at the thought.

She looked up at him to protest just leaving the groceries in the street, but the world became a singular, terribly bright hue as lightning struck. Gold could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand at its proximity, and he was momentarily blinded; his nerve endings sizzled with the electricity. He didn't even have time to register shock before thunder exploded around them, shaking the street. Belle cried out in surprise.

He didn't realize the two of them were running until they passed from under the protection of the store's awning and became instantly drenched with rain. He looked over to see Belle staring at him, wide-eyed. He'd dragged her with him to the middle of the street in his need to escape danger; his hand was still grasping her upper arm. She was stumbling awkwardly, trying to keep up.

He dragged her the last few steps and let her go when they reached the other side of the street, and she slumped against his shoulder. He could see over her head that lightning had struck the grocery store, not a hundred yards from where they'd been standing. There was a smoldering hole in the roof where an antenna had been, and smoke was rising hazily from it. He suddenly didn't care about her thinking him a stranger. He didn't like her being out in this weather. He didn't like her being in danger. He was going to get her to safety.

He leaned down to shout in her ear above the noise of the storm.

"My shop is just down the next street! We'll be out of the rain! It will be safe there!"

Belle began to turn as he put his hand on the small of her back to lead her, and he cringed as she noticed the store. Her voice rose an octave in alarm.

"But those people could be hurt! It looks like the lightning started a fire!"

"They're fine!" He tried to nudge her in the direction of his shop, and felt her stiffen with resolve. She turned and looked up at him. She may have lost her memories, but he hadn't, and he recognized Belle's stubborn determination when he saw it.

"Damnit Belle!" He shouted, tempted to pick her up like a disobedient child and run when another flash of lightning lit the sky, the thunder following not a second later. Still too close. He didn't like that. A pinging sound caught his ear and he broke eye contact with her for just long enough to notice hail beginning to bounce off the cobblestones in the road.

"Let the fire department take care of it, Belle! We need to get out of the weather! We could have been killed!"

"But those people!"

"They will be fine!" He howled, his temper fraying. Those people could burn for all he cared. The entire town could burn. Belle was here, and he was beginning to remember why she drove him insane. She could be so damndably stubborn. "_Please,_ Belle! I'll call the Fire Department. But we aren't doing any good risking ourselves. Now, lets' go. I won't ask again!"

There was anger burning in her eyes, and he could tell she wanted to tell him off for forcing her to bend to his will, but to his relief she followed him at a hurried pace down the block to his shop. He dialed up Swan on the way and angrily explained the situation to her, hanging up the moment he was finished. He used the rest of the walk to regain control over his temper. No one got under his skin like Belle did. He was both frustrated and relieved that, memories or no, that hadn't changed about her.

By the time they arrived his limp had become severe, and he cursed himself for leaving his cane behind in the damn puddle. As he hastily dug the keys from his pocket outside his shop and switched his weight to his bad leg he winced. His leg immediately protested holding his weight, and had nearly given out beneath him. So much for a walk loosening the damaged muscle.

He'd never forgotten she was standing beside him as he brooded, but he was still surprised by the feel of her gentle fingers on his forearm. He looked over and met her worried cerulean eyes with his own cautious ones.

"Are you alright?"

Her kind, innocent words were nearly his undoing. Was he alright? No, he wasn't alright. He'd lived countless years thinking she was dead, and now she was standing next to him with her big blue eyes, thinking him some crippled stranger.

"I'll be better when we're safely inside," He barked, instantly feeling guilty at the way his harsh tone made her bristle.

"Thank you." He amended quickly. "But I'm fine, Dearie. Please, let's not stand out here getting wetter than we already are." She nodded and to his dismay, shifted her weight and tightened her grip on his arm to help him walk.

_She must really think I'm disabled,_ He thought sourly. He didn't want to refuse her help though, realizing that her helping him through the doorway was her quiet way of letting him know she forgave him for snapping at her.

He allowed her to guide him inside, giving her just enough weight to believe that she was helping him.

It made him feel enfeebled just the same. Weak. And he was not weak.

Once beyond the foyer he gently untangled his arm from hers and walked as normally as possible to the light switches, flipping them on.

He watched with pleasure as her eyes widened at the sight. Trinkets, large and small, thousands of them. Some in cases, some on tables, some hanging from the ceiling; glittering, gently tinkling from the wind they'd let in with them. It was, after all, a pawn shop. Just another physical sign of his power, owning the things people valued but had to give away in moments of weakness. But power wasn't something he was concerned with at that moment; right now, he was just enjoying knowing that even after years apart and with none of her memories, he could still impress her.

"Tea?" He asked pleasantly. The din of the storm howling outside was now dull, providing an ambiance. No longer a threat. They were safe in here.

"Tea would be lovely." Belle responded.

Gold made his way through the curtains at the back of his shop and up the stairs slowly. He'd pulled a chair out for Belle in the shop and excused himself to heat up a pot of tea, but his mind was racing as he idly pulled off his wet suit jacket, button-up shirt, and undershirt. They all fell to the floor in a muddy, sopping mess. He retrieved a towel from his bathroom and gazed at himself in the mirror, keeping an ear out for the whistle of the teapot. He took stock of what had happened since he left his door not an hour before.

Belle was alive. She was here, in Storybrooke. Even better, she was downstairs. Right now. In his shop. He became aware of that same electricity he'd felt in the air before, when the storm was approaching. Had it been the storm?

He didn't care about his ruined clothing, or his wet, ruined shoes. Or how those wet, ruined things were slowly ruining the antique hardwood floor at this very moment. All those things could be replaced.

What was waiting for him in his cold downstairs shop, sitting on a hard chair in equally wet clothing, could not. He hastily pulled on a pair of slacks and a maroon button-up shirt, fixing his tie and running both hands through his hair. He might not give a damn about his ruined clothes, but here in this world he had the opportunity to be handsome for her, and he wasn't going to waste it.

He came downstairs a few minutes later balancing a tea tray and a stack of clothing in his arms. He found her closely studying a pile of old, antique books he'd tucked away in an abandoned corner of the shop behind the counter, and this made him smile.

"See anything you like, Dearie?" He asked. She started at the sound of his voice and hurriedly made her way back around the glass counter that served as a partition between where customers should and shouldn't be. She looked embarrassed.

"Sorry, I just saw the books and was curious."

"Not at all," He couldn't keep the smile from his voice. "What's mine is yours. Please," He gestured to his burden and she took the tray from atop the pile of clothing and set it upon the glass countertop. He then offered her the clothes; a pair of jeans and a light blue sweater.

"These will be a bit large on you, dearie, but they'll probably be more comfortable than that wet dress."

"Thank you," Belle murmured, running the expensive fabric between her fingers.

Gold started a fire in the small fireplace and prepared the tea as she changed, and tried not to think too hard about Belle being upstairs in his home. He should have just invited her upstairs for tea in the first place. Why did he have to be so old fashioned? It wasn't in style in this world. It was okay to invite a woman into your home for tea. Belle did strange things to his mental process.

_Fool. _He bitterly thought to himself.

He was about to go upstairs and float the idea to her when she returned, and his heart did a funny flip at the sight of her. Even in clothing too large, with the sleeves and pants both rolled up several times, she was beautiful.

"Better?" He asked, and she answered with a dazzling smile.

"Yes, thank you."

Gold dragged some antique armchairs that had been for sale in the shop for as long as he could remember over to the fire and patted the dust off of them before offering her one.

"Excuse the dust. I'm not…used to visitors."

Belle settled herself in the armchair across from him and took a small sip from her tea. He smiled at her look of surprise.

"Oh my goodness, this is my favorite!"

He couldn't help the broad smile of pleasure that spread across his face.

"I had no idea. What a lucky guess for me."

_Some things never change._

"So," He began, trying not to betray his overwhelming curiousity, "Do you live nearby, Dearie? You must have truly needed groceries if you chose today to go out without a car."

Belle nodded, gesturing towards the north.

"Yes. I live about a mile from here, near the city line."

Gold nearly spat out his tea. "The _city line? ´_There is no way you'd have made it back before being soaked! How were you expecting to get home with all those groceries? Couldn't you just have gotten a ride? Don't you have any friends?" _You could have contacted me. I would have brought them to you._

_She doesn't know you, you fool. _He argued with himself.

Belle gave him a sharp look, clearly offended.

"I would have managed. I'm a big girl. What about you? Where were you going?"

It was the first time Gold remembered his errand, and he leapt up from his armchair and reached for his phone quickly.

"Damn. I've missed my appointment." He cursed, pacing and gazing at his phone for a long moment before finally pocketing it without making a call. Let the bastard squirm. He settled himself back in the armchair. Belle looked amused.

"I was meeting someone about the purchase of a property downtown," He explained dryly. "But I suppose that isn't going to happen today."

"I'm sorry," Belle said, and she sounded sincere. "If I hadn't been such a clumsy fool..."

"Oh no, dearie. Saving beautiful girls from puddles wins out over purchasing old buildings in my book any day."

Belle giggled, and Gold smiled despite himself.

"Am I amusing you, Belle?"

She gave him a smile that melted his heart.

"You're just so cordial. It's rare to see such a true gentlemen."

He gave her a faux bow with his upper body and she curtsied was well as she could without standing. They shared a laugh.

After a few moments of companionable silence, he looked over at Belle to see her giving him a long, appraising look over her teacup that made him uneasy.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course," He replied.

"You seemed to recognize me in the street, but I'm certain we've never met. How do you know my name?" She was watching him carefully over the rim of her teacup, but it was curiosity in her eyes, not wariness. He relaxed marginally and shrugged.

"It's my business to know the people who live in town." He lied. He was surprised when she seemed disappointed by his answer. "Why?"

She curled her toes and looked into the fire thoughtfully.

"It's funny. I'm certain we've never met, but when I first saw you I could have sworn.." She shook her head. "But I know I'm mistaken. I don't even know your name."

Her response made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Did some part of her remember him? He cleared his throat.

"How rude of me. Mr. Gold." She held out her free hand and he grasped it gently, giving her a chaste kiss on the knuckles. She immediately blushed and turned away, brushing her hair behind her ears. He smiled with pleasure.

"Mr. Gold," She murmured. "I really appreciate you saving me and bringing me here today. I'd have probably been struck by lightning if it wasn't for you. "

Her voice had taken on a warmth that made him smile. Maybe kissing her hand had been a mistake. Maybe he'd made her uncomfortable, but the way she was acting didn't imply complete disinterest.

"It was my pleasure, Belle. I know what you meant earlier. I feel as if we've known each other in a past life," He hedged. But her face held no new recognition.

He held his teacup out to her in a salute.

"To old, yet new friends," He declared.

She leaned forward and clinked her teacup gently against his, giggling. But something shining on her finger caught his eye as she pulled away. He shot his hand out and grabbed her by the wrist, feeling the blood drain from his face as reality came crashing down around him.

A silver engagement ring glinted mockingly against the porcelain of the cup.

* * *

Thanks for the read, guys. More to come. Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

"W-What is this?" Gold stammered.

"Oh," Belle said, looking at the ring in embarrassment, "it's an engagement ring."

It took every ounce of Gold's willpower to not start shouting. Of course it was a fucking engagement ring. He wasn't blind. He bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood.

"It's lovely," He forced himself to say. "Who is the lucky man? Do I know him?"

_Can he quietly disappear?_

"His name is Richard," She murmured, "Richard Blanc."

_"_Richard?" Gold ran this name through his list of people who owed him favors, but could not recall him. "I've never heard that name. Some would call him a lucky man because of that." He smiled wryly at Belle, and she giggled. She was so sweet to believe he was joking. On this inside, he was murderous.

The hurt of seeing the ring on Belle's finger cleared his mind for a moment while he mused, and he suddenly sat up straight, staring at Belle as if he'd never seen her before.

People didn't come back from the dead. He'd been willing to believe it when he saw her, because he didn't want to believe anything else. But there was one rule to magic, and in his joy he'd forgotten it: Dead was dead.

"Belle," He asked slowly, "How long have you lived here in Storybrooke?"

"As long as I can remember," She replied, her eyes wide from the serious way he was beginning to stare at her. "Why?"

"And how many years, exactly, is that?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I can't recall ever living anywhere else."

Which meant that she'd been here the whole time. She'd come over to this world from the last with the curse, just like everyone else. Which meant she'd never died. He'd wasted countless years of his life thinking her dead, all because he'd accepted a lie told to him by a sneaking, traitorous snake.

His entire being was consumed by a fury that left room for nothing else.

"Belle," He spoke slowly, carefully, working his hardest to not let his growing rage show. "I'm going to take you home. I have some business I need to take care of. Now."

Magic or no magic, he was going to make the howling ferocity of the storm outside seem like child's play by the time he was through with Regina.

* * *

In the car the silence was tense, and Gold tried his best to ignore the worried glances Belle kept sending his way. After several minutes she was finally the one to break the silence.

"Mr. Gold? Is..is everything okay?"

"No, dearie, it's not. But it will be." His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and he glanced over and met her concerned blue eyes.

"What is it?" She urged. "Is there anything I can do?"

"It's not a problem that you could solve. Please, just point out your home to me."

_Unless you want to take that ring off, that is._

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He wasn't going to take Belle from this Richard Blanc; he wouldn't hurt her like that. He was going to solve this problem at the source.

He pulled into the drive of her home and stopped the car in front of a small but well-kept cottage in the woods. He turned to look at her, feeling a sudden pang of remorse over her leaving.

"Here we are, Dearie." The tenderness in his voice surprised him; he was still nearly blind with rage.

"Thank you again," Belle's voice was sincere, and she gave him another one of her heartwarming smiles. She put a hand on his knee and squeezed. "I hope you're able to find a solution to your problem, Mr. Gold. It was truly a pleasure meeting you."

"Thank you, Belle. I agree." He was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to lean over and kiss her, but he stopped himself. "I hope our paths will cross under more fortunate circumstances next time."

She seemed to be trying to hide a smile when she climbed out of his car, and he waved goodbye as he backed out of the drive. He watched her in his rearview until he lost sight of the cabin.

And then he floored the gas, sending pine needles flying as he fishtailed onto the main road.

* * *

He was at Regina's manor in minutes, and he didn't bother to knock.

He simply kicked the door open.

He found her in the kitchen, and the leash on his temper snapped completely at the sight of her. Regina merely glanced over at him from cooking at the stove, flipping her immaculately styled hair as she did.

"Liar." His voice was a venomous hiss as he approached her, his step a slow predators gait. "You lying, sneaking, thieving, evil little witch.."

Regina turned to look at him, raising a manicured eyebrow at him. Her pouty little smile made him even more furious.

"Hello to you too, Rumple. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He bared his teeth when he spoke. "Belle. I should cut you down right here, Regina, how _dare you..._"

She made a dismissive noise and returned to stirring onions in a frying pan.

"What about her?"

"She's here. Alive. She has a fiancé."

"Sounds like quite the problem," Regina responded mildly.

"Problem, indeed," He snarled. "A problem you're going to solve."

"And just why would I do that?"

Gold reached over her shoulder and grabbed the pan from the stove, throwing it on to the floor in an explosion of noise, onions, and sizzling oil. He spun her around and put his face inches from Regina's as he roared.

"Because this is _your_ fault!" He scrunched up his face and his voice took on a mocking tone. "You and your little curse, and your little schemes. I don't care what you do with your life, Regina, but stay the hell out of mine!"

Regina took a step back and put a hand on her hip. She had the audacity to nearly look amused.

"And how do you propose I fix your little problem, Rumple?"

"Lift the curse from her. Give her memories back, Regina. It's not a request. " His breath was ragged with his rage, but he lowered his voice to an ominous growl.

"Well," She responded, brushing past him to grab an onion from the fridge. She looked through her lashes at him as she peeled it. "There are a few problems with that, Rumple."

"And just would those be?"

"First off, I couldn't lift the curse if I wanted." She continued unperturbed when he jerked his head away and spat out an epithet. "But you could."

"Me?" He snarled. "If this was something I could fix, don't you think I would have instead of wasting my time here with you?"

"True loves kiss," She responded easily. "Goodness, Rumple. This girl must really have you twisted up If you'd forget such a simple little thing as that," She laughed at him and it made his skin crawl, but he felt a small amount of hope bloom in his belly. He turned away from her.

"Of course," He murmured to himself. "True loves kiss. What a fool."

He'd intended to leave and fix the problem without another word, but Regina called to him as he stepped out of the kitchen.

"So you want for the girl to hate you, then?"

He backtracked and glared at her.

"Excuse me?"

Regina was cutting the onion on the counter, but she gave him a smug smirk at his reappearance.

"This girl you care so much about. You expect the kiss to win her back?"

"It will return her memories," Gold said lowly, "Things will be back like they used to be. Before I thought she was dead."

"Oh," Regina responded, raising her eyebrows in mock surprise. "Back like they used to be. You mean after you rejected her love, barred her from your home, and made her a social pariah because of her mere involvement with you?"

He stared at her, open mouthed, and she continued with a victorious smirk on her face.

"I see you've forgotten the little details of why your precious little Belle left. It's okay. If I was responsible for a tragedy like that, I'd forget it, too."

"That's a lie," He growled. "Belle would forgive me if she just remembered."

"Would she? You said she has a fiancé. Sounds to me like she moved on after you threw her out. If she was alive this whole time, don't you think she'd have sought you out if she wanted you? After all, you weren't dead to _her_. Not physically, anyway. Face it: She cut you out of her life just as easily as you did hers, Rumple, but it certainly doesn't sound like _she's _pining over the loss."

Gold opened his mouth several times, but no sound came out. He was sure Regina was wrong.

_But what if she's right?_

Regina continued.

" If I were you, I'd do everything in my power to keep her from ever remembering. Sounds like my little curse is actually a blessing for you. Which would make True Loves Kiss into a bit of a..oh, what would you call it, Rumple?" She smiled sweetly at him. "A curse? Don't worry." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "There is no charge. This favor is on me. You're welcome."

He turned to leave, trying his hardest to ignore the icy fear that was climbing up his spine at all the implications of her words.

"Oh, and Rumple?"

He looked over his

shoulder at her, but Regina was ignoring him. Her tone was dismissive.

"What?"

"Fix the door on your way out. "

* * *

Gold lay in bed that night with his hands gripping his hair in frustration. The clock on the bedside table flashed 3:02 am at him.

He'd never been more infuriated by his inability to use magic before.

He'd also never felt so bleak. Not in a long, long time anyway. It was as if the sun had risen for the first time in centuries, only to blind him and then be snuffed out.

He went over the situation again in his mind, fruitlessly searching for loopholes. He'd been at it for hours.

Belle was here, in Storybrooke.

He could easily break her curse by kissing her, but returning her memories meant he ran the risk of her remembering just how much of a beast he was. How terrible he'd been to her.

Returning her memories meant he might lose her for good.

He could also try to win her all over again; use the rare opportunity he'd been given. A clean slate. They could have a brand new start, and he could pretend like all his past mistakes had never happened. He could do things right this time. But there was one problem.

This Richard Blanc threw a metaphorical wrench into both the choices he had. If Belle truly had fallen in love with him...and it _was_ possible he'd existed in the other world with her. Maybe she really had moved on. He wouldn't put it past Regina to allow a single couple happiness if it meant watching him suffer.

There was a second problem with his plan too, but he saw no point in brooding over it while the first still existed.

Regina had also bested him for the first time in recent memory.

And to top it all off, his leg was killing him.

He rolled over on his side with a groan of frustration and forced his mind to empty. He'd taken enough losses for one day.

* * *

Gold awoke bleary eyed the next morning and dragged himself out of bed. He hobbled over to the shower, doing his best to ignore the burning pain that ran from his knee up his leg and into his hip. He'd tossed and turned all night, and it hadn't done him any good.

He nearly fell on his face when he reached the bathroom, tripping over something wet that clung to his foot. He kicked it off and turned on the light switch angrily.

Belle's blue dress lay on the floor in a sodden mess, presumably where she'd left it the day before. He knelt down and picked it up, his heart twisting with remorse as he remembered the events of the previous day.

"My beautiful Belle," He whispered. "If only I could show you how sorry I am."

* * *

He was out of the shower and putting bread in the toaster for breakfast when he became aware of a tapping noise coming from downstairs. He turned his head towards the noise and, unable to locate the source, made his way downstairs.

He stared at the door in frustration. Someone was knocking on the door to his pawn shop. He glanced at one of the many clocks that hung on the walls. It was too early for visitors. Besides, no one was brave enough to come banging on his door.

He was still debating on whether or not to open the door when the knocking abruptly stopped, and he smirked. Whoever it was had lost their nerve. He strode forward and leaned in to peer through a gap in the curtains covering the windows to see who it had been.

He'd put his face within an inch of the window before, suddenly, someone did the same on the other side of the glass.

"Shit!" He shouted, jumping back in surprise. He put his hand to his chest and felt his heart racing. Angry, he grabbed a fistful of the curtains and ripped them from the wall, sending dust and bits of drywall everywhere.

Belle stared back at him, her eyes wide. She had her hand over her heart, and looking down, he realized he was still doing the same. He dropped his hand and hurriedly threw open the door. He was nearly blinded by the sunlight and shivered as a blast of cool air hit him. The storm had passed, it seemed, and it had brought autumn with it. He stared at Belle in shock.

"Christ, Belle, you scared the shit out of me," He panted.

"I scared _you?" _Belle still had her hand over her heart.

Gold stared at her, dumbfounded. "What are you doing here?"

She held up a plastic bag in answer.

"I came to return the clothes you borrowed me."

He felt a pang of guilt at her wet dress he'd left abandoned upstairs, but he managed a laugh.

"So soon? I wasn't charging you by the hour, dearie. You could have tossed them and I wouldn't have minded."

"I figured as much," She said, but she looked away and her voice took on a tone he didn't like. "I just didn't want you to miss them. Just in case."

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Just in case _what,_ dearie?"

Belle shrugged, but he pressed on. "Belle, lies don't suit you. Please, you won't offend me."

Belle tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Her voice was apologetic.

"Richard wanted me to return them to you. He said.."

"He said what, Belle?"

Belle looked him straight in the eye, and he wasn't sure if it was to prove to him that she didn't believe her fiancés words, or to defend them.

"He said you weren't a man to accept favors from."

Gold closed his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts. When he opened them he hoped his forced smile was pleasant.

"He would be right." He watched Belle's face carefully, waiting to see her hide a look of apprehension or negativity, but she simply stared expectantly back at him, waiting. In his nervousness he let a little bit of his old self creep into his voice. "Usually." He held up a finger and pronounced every syllable, a broad, playful smile on his face.

"However, you'll find, Dearie, that I don't consider spending the afternoon with a pretty lass such as yourself a favor, or a debt."

He gave her a low, eccentric bow, internally wondering where the hell this old part of him had been hiding for 28 years. He wasn't sure his had missed it. But then he heard her giggle and that only egged him on. A new idea formed. He changed tactics.

"At least, not a debt that _you _owe. But if you want to settle debts, Dearie, I'm more than happy to oblige." Still low in his ridiculous bow, he motioned her inside. "May I interest the lady in a home cooked breakfast for her troubles? May we call ourselves even then?"

Belle giggled again, and he stood. She curtsied.

"We may. Thank you." He offered his arm to her and she wrapped her delicate little fingers around it, allowing him to escort her through the shop. He put his free arm behind his back, making a fist, and moved with a regal stiffness. This made her giggle louder.

Her laugh warmed his heart, and he behind his beaming smile his mind was full of one singular, surprised, confused, impressed thought.

_Where the hell had Rumplestiltskin come from?_

Wherever he'd come from, he vanished the moment the two of them ascended the stairs and he remembered that in his frustration the night before, he'd left everything where it had been and tried to sleep.

He was horrified, but there was no way of hiding the wet pile of his clothes in the middle of the living room, the dishes piled up in the sink, or the still damp towel he'd unceremoniously draped over an open drawer in the kitchen when he'd started making toast. The cold toast sat abandoned in the toaster.

"Oh. I, uh.." He began, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I had a rough night last night. I don't suppose I could tempt you with breakfast at Granny's?" He looked at Belle hopefully, but she was ignoring him.

Belle was looking around, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight. After a long moment she slowly put her hands on her hips and looked up at him with a smirk.

"For apparently having _such_ a reputation for deal making, you're awful flimsy about it, Gold."

He couldn't help but stiffen angrily at her words.

"Excuse me?"

"Your deal was _very_ specific. One home cooked breakfast. Are you trying to get out of it just because of a little mess?"

He relaxed, but his tone was very somber when he responded.

"I wouldn't dream of breaking a deal with you."

She tramped over to his kitchen and gingerly picked up the towel from the drawer, draping it over the back of a chair before the snatched out a spatula and tossed it to him. He caught it and gave her a bewildered look.

"You cook. I'll clean."

"But the mess. Belle, please. I'd forgotten about it before I invited you inside. Please."

Her stern look silenced him mid-word, and that turned her expression into a mischievous little smile that did strange things to his nerves. She put her hands on her hips.

"Who owes who here, Gold?"

He was dumbstruck, staring at her with his mouth slightly open as if he'd never truly seen her before, feeling admiration for her courage bubble up inside of him. Who was this imp that had replaced his sweet little Belle?

Belle took his silence for his answer. "That's what I thought. Now are you going to cook, or not?"

He shook off his surprise and smiled at her.

"Whatever the lady wishes."

"Good. Now where is your laundry room?"

* * *

They cooked and cleaned in companionable silence, broken only by Belle reappearing every few minutes to ask him where something was or where something went. He was also pleasantly surprised at how comfortable she seemed around him. He admired her for coming upstairs to have breakfast with a man who in her eyes was essentially a complete stranger, but to take control of his household the moment she crossed through the door and use his love for deals against him..He shook his head as he slid bacon onto a plate, smiling.

She wasn't exactly who he remembered her being, but damn if she wasn't still his stubborn, lovely Belle. How easily she had wrapped him around her little finger.

He finished cooking and went in search of her, finding her tucked away in the laundry room. She was moving his wet clothes into the dryer with her back to him. He was overwhelmed with the urge to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her beautiful chestnut hair, but he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe instead.

"Breakfast is served, milady," He called.

Belle looked over her shoulder at him and smiled before climbing back into the washing machine to retrieve the last of his wet clothes.

"It smells lovely. You know, for a gentleman who wears nothing but suits, you have a lot of other clothes. You should wear them sometime."

Gold looked at her in surprise.

"Why would I do that?"

Belle looked at him for a moment with her eyebrows raised. When his confused expression didn't change, she laughed.

"Most people don't cook breakfast in suits, Mr. Gold."

He looked down at himself. His slacks were neatly pressed, his navy blue button-up shirt, black waistcoat, and black jacket unruffled. He looked back at her and smirked.

"_Most people _can't cook bacon without getting grease all over themselves." He gestured to his immaculate suit. "However, I can."

Belle rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face.

"Okay, Mr. Gold. I'm just saying, you'd look handsome in jeans and t-shirts, too."

He stared at her, transfixed, until she stood and then he followed her obediently to the dining room.

_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ _In jeans _too?_ She thinks I'm handsome?_

He ate slowly, eyeing her with wariness when she wasn't looking at him. The way she was acting certainly didn't imply...

He shook his head. He hadn't dealt with love in...well, since she had left him the first time, and he wasn't sure what to make of her offhand comment and behavior.

_You mean since you threw her out the first time. _He reminded himself bitterly.

"Something wrong?"

He glanced up to see Belle watching him.

"What? No, dearie." He smiled playfully at her and put his fork down. He noticed her plate was still half full of pancakes, eggs and bacon. He also noted that she'd slathered everything in syrup.

"Something wrong with the food, Belle?" She shook her head and puffed her cheeks out, wordlessly indicating fullness, and he couldn't resist teasing her.

"So you make all this fuss about a home cooked meal and then you don't even finish it all? What a shame."

Belle narrowed her eyes at him, but there was a small smile on her lips. "I don't know what the packaging said, but when you make enough for ten and put it on two plates, Gold, it doesn't count as two servings."

"Well," He began. "When settling a debt, one can never be too careful." His lips curved up marginally, and he hoped she wouldn't take offense at him throwing her fiancés words back at her. "After all, I can tell you aren't the kind of woman I'd want to become indebted to."

Belle covered her chest with her hand in mock surprise, but there was a hint of hurt in her eyes.

"Why, Mr. Gold, what would make you say that?"

"First you come here, under the guise of returning my clothes-thank you, by the way, and then before I know it you've let yourself in-"

"This was your idea!"

"-And forcefully cleaned my home." He shook his head and made a tut-tut sound. "Really, Belle, you are a handful. I don't know what to do with you. Next thing I know you're going to be demanding to do the breakfast dishes, too." He inched his plate closer to her with his fingertip, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

She pushed the dish back at him in the same fashion.

"I believe that cleanup is also included in the deal."

He pushed it back.

"The deal was fairly specific, I believe. I cook, you clean."

The dish moved back to him.

"And I did clean. I'll do the dishes, but in exchange I'm putting all your clothes back where I found them. After I roll them around with the dishes."

He was concerned at this prospect, but he pushed the dish back to her, calling her bluff.

"The chef doesn't clean. Fairly certain that was the first deal of mankind, Dearie."

"So pancakes and bacon makes you a chef, then? No dice, Gold."

He gave her a wounded look. "You insult me, Miss French."

"Fine. I'll do the dishes." She slowly pushed her chair back and Gold winced as it shrieked noisily across the wooden floor. She smiled sweetly at him, taking his dish and hers to the kitchen. Moments later the scream of metal against porcelain had him leaping to his feet and running to the kitchen to stop her from dragging a fork across the plates.

"Stop! Stop!" He took the dishes from her and shook the remnants of the food from her plate into the trash before turning and giving her a dark look. "Fine. I'll do the dishes. You play a wicked game, Miss French."

Her answering smile was victorious as she left the room.

* * *

Gold left the kitchen twenty minutes later and looked around as he wiped his wet hands on a towel. The house had gotten very quiet.

"Belle?" He called. When he received no response he called again, nervous that she had left without saying goodbye. "Belle?"

He turned, about to call her name again before he saw that the door to the stairs was open. He wandered downstairs, wondering what he had done to make her leave in such haste.

He poked his head through the curtains that served as a partition between the shop and the stairs to his home and saw her through the dusty light shining through the windows; crouched behind the display cases near his little shelf of books, completely absorbed. He watched her for a long minute, observing her process.

She ran a finger down the spine of a book with reverence, reading the title. She then moved her hand to the top of the book, clearly wanting to pull it from the shelf and open it. She then flicked the price tag hanging from a thread from each one so she could see the price. After that she hastily removed her hand and moved to the next book to repeat the process. Her face flowed between desire, awe, and disappointment, and he had to resist a chuckle. He'd never seen anyone look at a book with such hunger.

He slunk behind her as quietly as possible, putting his hands in his trouser pockets. He leaned against the glass display case closest to her and forced his expression into one of nonchalance.

"See anything you like, dearie?"

Belle shrieked, falling over and looking up at him; taken completely by surprise. Her wild, wide eyed look almost made him feel bad.

Almost.

He howled with laughter, surprising even himself. Belle's further look of bewilderment only made it worse. He doubled over and clutched his thighs as he tried to regain composure, glancing up at Belle to see her horrified expression slowly turning into one of annoyance.

"The look on your face! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry…" He swiped tears from the corner of his eyes, and Belle patiently waited for him to calm down, her patronizing expression finally sobering him, and he cleared his throat before giving her his best apologetic look. He couldn't completely wipe the smile from his face.

"I really am sorry. God, I haven't laughed like that in years." He held a hand out to her to help her stand.

"I'm so glad I amuse you, Mr. Gold." She replied dryly, but accepted his help.

"I thought you'd left, but then I came down here to find you so absorbed…Forgive me dearie, I couldn't help myself." She glared at him, but the grin he still couldn't completely hide made her lips turn up in an answering smile. She glanced over at the books, a faint look of desire crossing her features before she moved away from them.

"Let me ask my question again, now that I have your attention. Did you see anything you liked?" It was a stupid question to ask. He'd known the answer the second he'd seen hunger in her eyes as she read the titles. He still needed to ask it.

She nodded, busying herself with brushing the dust off her shirt so she avoided his gaze.

"Mmm."

Suddenly confused, he forced himself to ask yet another silly question that he already knew the answer to.

"Fan of reading, Miss French?"

There was a spot on her shoulder seemed to be very important. "Mmm."

"Belle," His tone was suddenly worried. "What's wrong?"

"I can't afford any of those books." She stated matter-of-factly, her expression blank.

He stared at her, watching her try to hide the disappointment that was clear on her face.

"I wasn't asking if you wanted to buy them, Belle, I was asking if you saw anything you liked."

He was shocked at the guarded look she gave him, unsure of what he'd said to upset her so. She nodded slowly.

"Well," He said, putting his hand in his trouser pockets again and smiling easily at her. "When two people have something the other wants, a deal can always be struck."

Belle's expression turned predatorily eager so fast that it took Gold by surprise.

"What do you want?"

He bit his tongue to keep from reprimanding her for pouncing so quickly on the words that had ensnared so many into his eternal debt in the past.

Belle wasn't someone he'd ever put in his debt.

"Well," He began, gesturing towards the books. "You see, these books have been in my possession a long time, and as I'm sure you noticed by the tags, are quite valuable." He hurriedly continued when a crestfallen expression crossed Belle's face. "So I can't let them leave the shop. But I'd be more than happy to let you read them here, during business hours."

"What do you want?" She repeated, but her expression was hopeful.

He paused. What did he want? He didn't care about the books. They were _very_ valuable; rare collector's pieces and first editions, but in all the years he'd had the shop no one had given them so much as a second look. He'd give them to her without a single hesitation if she'd accept them but, considering the look she'd given him when he'd asked her if she liked them, he knew she'd never take them off his hands for free.

Besides, if she had to read them here, she might come keep him company. It meant he'd get to see her occasionally.

"In exchange, I want you to audit the books for me." At her confused look, he explained, adopting the tone he used for business. "You can read them, but when you're finished I'd like you to report the books condition, rarity, and the like. They've been collecting dust for years. Those prices are probably very outdated." He extended his hand for her to shake. "Do we have a deal?"

He stumbled back in shock as she threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. She was nearly shouting in his ear.

"Yes! Yes! Thank you!"

He hugged her back slowly with one arm, glad that she couldn't see the ridiculous mixture of shock, pleasure, and eagerness that he was sure was on his face. He cleared his throat, trying to sound professional, but he couldn't stop smiling.

"Of course. You're very welcome, Belle."

He quickly let her go, but Belle held her grip around his neck. He returned his arm around her slowly, patting her gently on the back. They stood that way for several seconds before something vibrated against his hip, making them both jump.

"Phone," Gold muttered, digging in his pocket. He swiped at the screen and frowned. "Not me, Dearie."

Belle reached in the pocket of her jeans and her eyes widened when she saw her phone.

"Shit!"

She quickly turned away from Gold and brought the phone up to her ear. He watched her nervously, calling out to her when reached the far end of the shop from him, but she held up her hand to silence him.

"Hello?" She winced and pulled the phone back from her ear marginally. "I know. I know. I'm sorry. No, it was fine. He didn't care . I told you he wouldn't—" She stopped, listening, and her face held the expression of a scolded child. "Richard, I'm sorry. I lost track of the time—No, he invited me in for breakfast and-" She paused for so long Gold wondered if she'd been hung up on; but she finally responded, her voice small. "I'm on my way."

She hung up and gave Gold an apologetic look.

"Sorry. I need to head home."

He chuckled.

"Out past curfew, Dearie?"

The scolded, embarrassed look mostly left her eyes, and she graced him with the barest hint of a smile.

"It's not quite like that."

"I suppose that you didn't arrive home and he assumed I'd enslaved you into my debt then." He smiled, trying to keep his tone light. "I'm sure he'd be proud to learn it was quite the opposite." He reached in his pocket and retrieved his keys, jingling them at her. "I'm going to assume you didn't drive, and since this appears to be an emergency, may I offer you a ride?"

* * *

It took half the drive for Gold's teasing to finally bring Belle back out of her shell.

"You know, you could scurry back home quickly if you ever brought you car with you."

She glanced at him, finally responding to his attempts to make conversation.

"Don't have one."

"Why not?"

"I don't need to drive. It's a small town."

"Doesn't your fiancé have a car he could borrow you?"

"No."

Her matter of fact tone took him by surprise.

"Why not?"

She looked out the window silently, and he continued before tension could grow between them.

"But have you ever had one?"

"I don't _need_ one."

"Do you have your driver's license?"

She snorted and looked away, and he raised his eyebrows at her. He pulled into her drive and put the car in park so he could turn and give her his full attention, a broad smile crossing his face. Her ears were pink as she tried to avoid his eyes.

"Belle French, are you telling me you don't know how to drive?"

She'd apparently had enough, because she surprised him again by rearing back and hitting him in the shoulder with her fist. It would have hurt his feelings if it wasn't for the big smile on her face. He kneaded his shoulder as she raised her voice at him, laughing.

"You are the meanest, most frustrating man I've ever had the displeasure of knowing for two days, Gold! No, I can't drive. I've never learned. Stop teasing me!"

He smirked at her, unsure of what to think of her words.

"Meanest?" He asked, trying to look wounded with a smile on his face and laughter in his voice. "Most frustrating? _Displeasure_ of knowing? You really think that?"

"Yes!" She cried, but she had begun to laugh, too. "You act like we've known each other for years, Gold, but it's barely been two days. I cringe to think of how you act around people you've actually _known_ for that long. You must torment people relentlessly."

"You have no idea."

His answering smile was mischievous, and it made her laugh again. He couldn't help but retort.

"As long as we're discussing being presumptuous with strangers, you're the one who took charge of my home the second you crossed the threshold, shouting orders and insulting my clothing."

He was rewarded with another playful punch, which only made him laugh.

"Shut _up_!"

They both froze when a loud tapping on the glass of Gold's window interrupted their banter, and gold watched Belle's eyes grew wide as she looked over his shoulder.

"Richard?"

"Is there a problem here, Belle?" A growling male voice behind him asked on the other side of the glass. He sharply inhaled. Something about that voice made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

_Oh no. _

Belle quickly unbuckled and Gold watched her, still as a statue. His eyes moved to follow her as she exited the car and walked around the front and out of his sight, her voice once again apologetic.

"Richard, you didn't need to come all the way out here. I was just coming in. Mr. Gold gave me a ride. Please, since you're out here, let me introduce you. Mr. Gold? This is my fiancé, Richard."

_No, no no._

"Mr. Gold?"

She tapped gently on the window he was still facing away from, and he slowly closed his eyes, giving himself a moment. When she tapped again, he slowly exhaled and turned in his seat, praying his memory was misleading him.

It wasn't.

It was Gaston who looked back at him through the window, crouched beside his car. They were at eye level with each other, and they exchanged looks of wariness before Gold slowly reached for the door and opened it, his eyes never leaving Gaston's.

He expected Gaston to move, but his car door struck something that made a dull metallic noise. Belle and Gaston both moved back, but Gaston still didn't rise.

Something wasn't right.

Gold slid out of the car and stood, his eyes widening.

Gaston was in a wheelchair, a blanket draped over his lap. He couldn't help but break eye contact with the man to glace down.

Below the blanket, which should have ended mid-calf, there was nothing. The foot rests were empty.

Gaston extended a hand to him, which Gold mechanically shook.

"Richard Blanc." He stated, his eyes full of suspicion. "So. You're Mr. Gold. The infamous beast of Storybrooke."

* * *

**Thank you so much for the reads! Each chapter keeps getting longer as I settle in for the long run. I hope you enjoy it, and please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Gold narrowed his eyes, preparing a nasty reply before Belle's hand suddenly swatted Gaston on the back of the head, taking both men by surprise. Belle's voice had risen an octave and was full of shock.

"Richard!" He looked up at her, and Gold couldn't help but do the same. Belle looked furious. "Don't speak to Mr. Gold like that. Apologize!"

Gaston rubbed the back of his head and gave Gold a dark look.

"Sorry." He muttered.

"No matter," Gold said, speaking between his teeth. "It's not as if I'm deaf to the things people whisper behind my back."

He nodded to Belle before opening his car door and sliding back inside.

"Good day, Belle."

Belle called his name, but he shut the door and backed out of the drive, avoiding her eye.

It made him feel like a coward.

* * *

He stopped at Storybrooke Grocery on the way home, noting the large gaping hole in the roof that had been patched over with flimsy black plastic. The store's parking lot was empty except for a single car, but he parked in the street directly in front of the front door to save himself the walk, his leg beginning to ache again. When he turned the car off he noticed the dip in the road down the street, and he limped over to look at the puddle that had begun the string of events that he was still reeling from.

It was mostly gone; the sunny weather seemed to have dried the ground, and he glimpsed the silver end of his cane poking out from beneath a layer of wet mud. He knelt down and dug it out, pleased that it survived the storm after being abandoned. He tugged on the silver handle and pulled it out of the grime, and found himself holding half a cane in his hands. The bottom half still lay beneath the mud, mocking him. From the way it had broken, it appeared to have been run over.

"Just perfect." He snarled, throwing the top half back into the puddle and turning away in disgust.

He let himself into the store and surprised the manager; a middle aged man named Greg with a receding hairline and a button-up shirt which was not completely tucked in in the back. He was standing in the middle of the store, hands on his hips, looking up at the hole in the roof.

"I do hope you plan on doing more to fix that hole than staring it away," Gold said with quiet malevolence, making the man nearly jump out of his skin. Unlike that morning, Gold showed no sign of amusement.

Greg turned to him, paling. "Mr. Gold! I didn't know you were coming in. I would have—"

Gold cut him off. "Why is the store closed, Greg?"

He gestured up to the hole wordlessly. "The storm—"

"Trust me, I'm fully aware. So if I understand you correctly, you have yet to fix the hole, but rather than work around it, you closed the store. Am I missing something?"

Greg's eyes were wide. "We didn't want to fix anything without running the expenses by you first. We had an estimation done." He pulled a crumpled up sheet from his back pocket and offered it hastily to Gold, who looked at it in disgust and then turned to leave without taking it from him.

"I don't want something you thought unimportant enough to crumple up and shove in your back pocket. Just fix the damn hole. I want the store open by tomorrow morning."

He spent the rest of the day amusing himself by similarly terrorizing his other tenants, and he almost felt better by that evening when he left the last store and headed for his car, carrying new drapes for the shop in his arms. His limp had become bad again, and he was suffering without his cane, but it was a small price to pay for keeping the business he'd cultivated going.

"Storybrooke's beast, indeed." He growled to himself, throwing the drapes in the backseat and heading for home.

* * *

He awoke the next morning and limped to the shower, steadying himself on the furniture he passed on the way. His leg was stiff from his ankle to his hip, and he could only begin to bend it at the knee after standing in the shower until the water ran cold.

Getting dressed as an arduous task, as was putting on his shoes, and he was an hour late in opening the shop by the time he'd finished. He'd intended to go back upstairs for breakfast, but it had taken him ten minutes to limp down the stairs one at a time, and he abandoned the idea.

He really needed a new cane.

He was furious with himself and his bodily shortcomings by the time he swiped aside the curtains that served as a door to the shop from the stairs. His drapes were spilled across the floor at his feet; after several minutes of trying to hold onto them while descending the stairs, he'd given up on trying to keep them unwrinkled and simply thrown them down the stairs instead. He stepped over them and into the shop, cursing. He stopped short when he saw Belle watching him through the uncovered window.

She'd been sitting on the slight ledge where the window met the brick storefront with her legs crossed at the knees, and she'd clearly turned at the muffled sound of his voice. She was watching him with wide eyes. It was obvious from the expression on her face that she could either hear him through the glass or had read his lips.

He immediately regretted using such harsh language.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his limp at a minimum and unlocked the door to let her in. She hadn't even crossed the threshold before her teasing of him began.

"Tough morning, Mr. Gold?"

He glared at her.

"You have no idea."

"Well," She said, coming inside and taking off her coat to put it on the rack next to the door. "I thought, mistakenly, that your posted store hours were accurate, and I arrived here on time. So actually yes, I do have the slightest inkling."

He looked at her in shock. "You've been out here for the last hour?"

She nodded. "And I could hear you grumbling for the last twenty minutes."

He felt his face redden. "I apologize for what you may have overheard."

She patted him on the back as she passed him, heading towards the bookshelf.

"The entertainment was A+, but I'd suggest you work on being punctual." She looked over her shoulder at him, wrinkling her nose. "It's cold outside, you know."

"I apologize," He replied. He'd truly meant the words, but they came from his lips in a tone that would have made any of his employees shrivel into a fearful husk. "But I was a little busy trying to not become tangled in my newest purchase and fall down the stairs." He gestured to the drapes.

Belle took one look at them and burst into laughter. He stared at her in bewilderment.

"What?"

She put her and over her mouth to try to stifle her giggles, but it seemed to be difficult.

"Those are absolutely hideous." She forced her face into an expression of careful blankness when he continued to stare at her, aghast.

"But they might look better when they're hung up?" She offered.

He shook his head slowly.

"You are absolutely unbelievable."

She turned to head towards his bookshelf, but he grabbed her by the upper arm and stopped her.

"Oh no, dearie. You can't just insult my new drapes and then walk away. Now you're going to help me hang them."

"But that's not fair! I came here to read! This wasn't part of the bargain!" She wailed.

He smiled patiently at her.

"Whining never solved anything, dearie. It's only fair; you said they might look better hung up, and now we're going to find out together."

* * *

An hour later, the two of them stood back and admired their handiwork side by side.

"You were right," He conceded. "These drapes are hideous."

Belle gave him a smug look.

"Told you so. We didn't need to put up both sets to see that."

"I already admitted you were right," He snapped. "You don't need to rub it in." He ran a hand through his hair.

Belle sighed. "Should we take them down?"

Gold shook his head.

"Leave them. At least they match now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He answered tiredly. His leg was killing him. He'd done his best to do his half of the work, but if going down the stairs had been hard, standing on a ladder had been absolute torture. Belle had quietly done most of the work without a single complaint, tease, or comment, and he was grateful that she'd seemed to instantly understand that his limp was something he was uncomfortable talking about.

He looked over at her and caught her looking at him with a strange mix of exhaustion, pleasure, concern and hope in her eyes, and it took him a long moment to discern the reasons for all of them. He waved a hand at her, gesturing to the bookshelf.

"Well, go on then!"

She beamed and darted past him to make her first choice, making him chuckle. Her happiness outshined any amount of self-inflicted pain he'd put himself in.

Belle seemed to make her choice quickly, because she left the bookshelf and, after a moment of debate, curled herself up in one of the armchairs he'd dragged over to the now cold fireplace several days before and opened her book. He couldn't quite make out the title from where he stood, but he made a note to check it once she'd relinquished it for the day.

He shuffled his way over to a stool behind the main counter and seated himself gingerly upon it. Glancing over at Belle, who seemed to already be absorbed in whatever it was she was reading, he pulled his briefcase out from under the counter and settled himself in to work.

They spent several hours in quiet companionship this way, broken only by the occasional person who wandered in to either speak to Gold, or to buy or sell something from him. Every single time, Belle attracted looks ranging from surprise to flat out disbelief, which Gold answered with a silent raise of his eyebrows. Inwardly, he was smugly pleased for people to see such a beautiful young woman so casually lounging in his shop. It made him almost forget that she belonged to another.

It was well past five when their mutual reverie was broken by the sound of Gold's stomach growling loudly. He looked up to see Belle watching him. She'd gotten comfortable in the armchair; her legs were draped over one of the arm rests and she'd cradled herself between the back of the chair and the other arm rest, her book resting on her knees.

"Was that your stomach?" She asked, surprised.

He realized he hadn't eaten breakfast, or dinner the night before, for that matter, and he was suddenly ravenous. But eating meant either leaving the shop or going upstairs, neither of which he wanted to do. He didn't want to even stand.

"No." He lied.

"Lies don't suit you, Mr. Gold," She replied, throwing his words from the previous day back at him.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

"I could eat," She hedged.

"We could go to Granny's and get dinner, if you'd like." He offered. "I owe you for helping me with the drapes."

Belle's eyes lit up. "That sounds great. When does the shop close?"

"Now. Let's go. I'm starving."

She shut her book and gave him an admonishing look. "Don't you ever stick to your regular hours?"

"Not when I'm hungry."

That seemed to be good enough for her.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they arrived at Granny's, and it had taken all of Gold's willpower to not beg for Belle to slow down during the walk. He'd headed for his car when they left the shop, but she'd turned down the sidewalk and, not wanting her to think him incapable of walking two blocks, he dutifully followed her.

He eased himself into the booth the second they were seated. He was impressed at Belle's ability to either not notice or not care that their server and half the patrons had stared, slack jawed, when they walked in.

Belle ordered an iced tea and a hamburger before their server had even handed them their menu's, and Gold and the woman had stared at her in surprise for a moment before he murmured that he'd have the same and sent her away. Belle looked up at his bewildered look.

"What? We agreed we were mutually hungry. I saved us a few minutes."

He laughed, causing a passing patron to turn and stare.

"You never cease to surprise me, Belle. You aren't…" He hesitated. "You aren't what I expected."

_You aren't who I remember._

She knitted her hands together and rested her chin on them, giving him one of her intense looks that made him uncomfortable. "You expected me to be a certain way?"

He shook his head. "It's complicated. I'm not sure you'd understand."

"Well, if it's any consolation, you aren't who I expected either."

He looked at her in surprise. Their waitress set their food down in front of them, but Belle had his full attention.

"What do you mean?"

She applied generous amounts of ketchup and mustard to her burger while she spoke.

"The way people talk about you, you'd think you were some sort of terrible monster. I don't think it's fair. You're the funniest, most entertaining to be around man I know."

His heart pounded at her words, but years of bitterness made him laugh harshly.

"People wouldn't believe you if you told them that about the Beast of Storybrooke."

"Don't call yourself that." She snapped, and he stared at her in surprise. "You aren't a beast."

"You don't know me very well, dearie." He muttered darkly, taking a bite from his food.

They finished their meal in silence and he threw a twenty dollar bill on the table.

"Shall we?"

She nodded and he stood, preoccupied with his thoughts. His leg gave out the second he put weight on it and he swallowed down a pained noise and stumbled. He was surprised when Belle grabbed hold of his arm and held him up, saving him from falling on his face in front of the whole diner.

They exchanged looks and she shifted, making it appear that he was escorting her out, their arms linked together, but she pushed her shoulder against his when he needed to use his leg, so she held his weight. It was awkward, but again Belle seemed to immediately understand his need to appear as if nothing was wrong.

They made it out of view of the diner before she let him go, her voice full of concern. He leaned against the side of the building.

"Are you alright?"

The lies were already on his lips; he'd tripped. Perhaps he'd been a bit hungrier than he'd thought, and his blood sugar was low. He had stood too quickly and gotten dizzy. But then he looked into her eyes and told the truth.

"No."

Her expression was unreadable.

"Your leg?" He nodded. "Can you make it home?"

"I'll be fine." He answered, and he began to walk away, but his leg took only a few steps before nearly giving out again. She caught him, this time grabbing his arm and wrapping it around her shoulders to more effectively hold his weight, and they began their slow two block journey back to his shop. He expected her to say something; to tease him, to complain that he shouldn't have taken her out if he knew he wasn't capable of walking. To lecture him on properly taking care of one's self. To call him an old man. _Something._

Instead, she looked over at him and said matter-of-factly, as if she need to get it off her chest,

"I'm sorry that Richard called you a beast yesterday. Please, don't let what others say about you determine who you think you are. You're one of the nicest people I've ever met."

He gawked at her; this woman who was so casually apologizing for her fiancés actions while simultaneously complimenting him and dragging him down the street, and found himself speechless.

They struggled their way back to his shop and he opened the door. They were both momentarily blinded by the lights; night had descended during their walk and the moon had not yet risen, so it had been a dark walk between the glow of the street lights.

She helped him through the shop and to the stairwell before he stopped her. He tried to retrieve his arm from around her shoulders, and stand on his own, muttering that he could make it from here.

It was only then that she looked him in the eye and spoke frankly.

"Don't be an ass, Gold."

He let her help him up the stairs without another complaint. She brought him to the living room and helped him down on his couch, and he let her go as quickly as he was able to. She grabbed pillows and propped his bag leg up, making him clench his jaw. A strangled noise gurgled in his throat despite his attempts to swallow it.

He looked down to see her watching him, her blue eyes serious. He smiled, baring his teeth.

"I'm fine."

She gave him a deadpan look and stood, disappearing into the kitchen. He could hear the sound of drawers opening, then the fridge, and the rumble of ice scraping together.

"Belle?" He called, and she reappeared with an ice pack in her hands. "Belle, this isn't necessary, I'm fine."

"Don't be an ass, Gold." She merely stated again, and sat at the edge of the couch. She grabbed the hem of his pant leg and pulled it up to his mid-calf, and he nearly ended up on the floor in his haste to stop her.

"No!"

But the damage was done. He saw the moment she froze, her eyes widening at the stripes of puckered red scar tissue that criss-crossed his flesh of his leg. He leaned forward and jerked his pant leg back down, yanking it from her hands.

They shared a long moment of heavy silence before Belle dropped her hands to her knees.

"Gold..." She whispered, trailing off as if she didn't know what to say.

He couldn't stand the sadness in her eyes. He looked away.

"I'm fine, Belle. It was a long time ago."

"What happened?" She asked, and she seemed surprised that the words had escaped her. Her gentle tone took him off guard.

"It was another life," He replied simply, and he reached out and squeezed her hand gently. "Really Belle, it's okay. I just overused it. Otherwise it doesn't hurt. I promise."

She gently moved his leg back atop the pillows she'd gathered and placed the ice pack on his knee, her gaze distant. She opened her mouth to speak but then seemed to think better of it.

"Go ahead." He said quietly.

"Those scars...do they.."

"Hip to ankle."

She shook her head.

"Jesus."

He couldn't help but chuckle darkly. "Indeed."

Belle patted his leg gently before she stood and retrieved a blanket from the laundry room.

He watched her with amusement.

"I see you know your way around my home."

"I just washed it." She explained simply. "Besides, you're a man. I figured putting away laundry wasn't in your top priorities."

She shook out the blanket before draping it over him.

"I'm not tired," He complained. He glanced at the clock. "It's not even eight o clock."

"Whining never solved anything, dearie." Belle imitated his thick Scottish accent, her eyes glittering. He glared at her and she patted his leg again and stood.

"I should head home. Richard is going to be worried. Are you going to be okay?"

He debated saying something to make her stay longer, but he simply shook his head. If he got her in trouble with her damned fiancé, he had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't see her again for a while.

"I'm fine."

"See you tomorrow?"

His eyes lit up.

"You're coming again tomorrow?"

She smiled. "Of course. I'm dedicated to a book now. I have to finish it." She turned to leave and he called out to her.

"Belle?" She looked at him, and he knew he was just trying to keep her from leaving, but he asked, "What book are you reading?"

"Wuthering Heights." At his blank stare, she added: "Emily Bronte?"

"I guess I'll have to borrow it when you're finished." He answered, feeling embarrassed.

"I guess you will." She responded, but she was smiling. She made it to the stairs before he called out to her.

"Belle?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you." He spoke so quietly he could barely hear himself, but Belle smiled understandingly at him before she turned off the lights and quietly shut the door.

* * *

Gold was woken the next morning when the sun shining through the open window above the couch made the embrace of the blanket too warm. He scrubbed his hands against his face and opened his eyes, bleary. He had fallen into an exhausted sleep shortly after Belle had left and had slept like the dead.

He shifted slightly and heard the ice pack slip from the couch to the floor. He froze.

"Oh no," He growled, slumping into the couch and rubbing his face again. The day after he overexerted his leg was always terrible; on these days he typically hid in his home, making calls to remotely terrorize his clients rather than doing it in person. His leg would be swollen to an unrecognizable mass at the hip and knee on days like this.

He looked at his watch and was surprised to see it was just before six in the morning. He still had two hours to hobble about the house before he had to be downstairs to embarrass himself in front of Belle by his inability to walk.

Mentally bracing himself, he slowly eased his leg off the mound of pillows piled at the opposite end of the couch. He clenched his jaw and bent at the knee to set his feet gingerly on the floor. He stared at it for a long moment before he finally stood and tested his weight.

There was a slight tinge of pain when he placed his full weight on the leg, but other than that the pain was completely gone. He went into the bathroom, walking more normally without a cane than he could remember in years, and pulled off his now wrinkled suit pants.

There was a purple mark over his knee where the ice pack had lain for too long the night before, and the scar tissue that ran down his leg in ugly raised stripes mocked him, but other than that, it looked like a normal leg. He shook his head slowly.

"Unbelievable."

He was in and out of the shower in minutes; it was amazing how much time not needing to tend to his leg freed up. He wrapped a towel around his waist and sauntered into the laundry room to deposit his wrinkled clothes and, remembering Belle's comment the night before, grabbed his laundry from the dryer and marched back into his bedroom with it. He deposited it unceremoniously on his bed and, after fishing out undergarments, turned to the closet and his endless number of suits.

He pulled one out and then hesitated, laying it carefully on the bed before moving on to a set of drawer's he'd opened for the first time in years earlier in the week to retrieve Belle new clothes. He tugged open a drawer and warily tugged out a pair of jeans and, after some fishing, a plain white t-shirt. He eyed them with suspicion.

_Belle said I'd look good in these,_ He reminded himself before he hesitantly tugged them on. He looked at himself in the mirror and, unable to completely break the habit of his attire, went back to his closet and put on a white, long sleeved button-up shirt over the original. It was of softer, rougher fabric than his usual silk, and it made him uncomfortable to see himself in the mirror. He scrubbed his palm against the two-day salt and pepper stubble of his jaw and gave up.

"That woman." He muttered to himself.

He was downstairs on time several hours later, carrying a tea tray and plates with toast and jam. He set them on the glass counter beside his work and glanced over at the covered windows, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

_Don't be an ass, Gold._ _They're just clothes._

He unlocked the door and peeked outside when Belle didn't immediately appear. She wasn't on her perch she'd complained so much about the day before, and Gold was filled with thoughts of her meeting her demise on the dark journey home before he shook himself. If something had happened to her, that fiancé of hers would have had Swan breaking his door down already. It was a beautiful day outside, and he propped the door open to let the cool air into the dusty shop.

It was good; he realized, that she was late. He settled himself into his stool behind the counter to wait and helped himself to his share of the toast. Being punctual had many advantages.

She arrived twenty minutes later, hurrying into the shop carrying a paper bag and a large wrapped box in her arms.

"My my, look who finally decided to show," He purred when she stepped inside.

"I had some stops to make," She explained, flustered; trying to shrug off her jacket with her parcels in her arms. He stood and sauntered over to take them from her, and she glanced at him and murmured her thanks before tugging it off. She got the jacket halfway to the coat rack before she froze, dropping it onto the floor. She turned slowly, her mouth hanging open in disbelief as she started at his feet and dragged her gaze all the way up to his face. He smiled when her eyes made their way to his and tried to ignore the dizzying feeling of embarrassed self-consciousness that overwhelmed him. When she broke eye contact to sweep her eyes back down his frame again, he was sure he'd die if she didn't explain what the look she was giving him meant.

"Holy shit," She said finally. "You're wearing real clothes."

He was amazed at himself for being able to retort when she was giving him a look that made his skin crawl.

"I wasn't aware that suits were fake clothing."

"Well, yes, but..." Belle sputtered, and he realized suddenly that she was speechless. He waited patiently, enormously thankful that he was able to keep his expression nonchalant when he felt like a complete fool.

"But?" He asked.

"I uh, knew your leg was hurting you," She stuttered, taken off guard. She glanced down at his clothes again before she took the large, wrapped box from him. "I uhm, got you a present."

"That was nice of you," He replied, and they stared at each other for a long moment before he held his arms out again. "Did you buy it for me to look at, or may I have it back?"

She blushed and pushed the parcel back into his hands again. "Oh. Yes. Of course. Here."

He took the box back and brought it over to one of the glass counters, running his fingers along the colorful paper.

"Go on," She urged. He looked over to see her rubbing her arm, suddenly looking the way that he felt. He tore open the paper and carefully opened the box. Inside was a new cane, with black wood and a gold handle.

"Belle," He said, taking it out of the box and holding it up to the light. The metal surface gleamed.

"I'm sorry," She sputtered, reaching to take it from him. "I just thought…you have trouble walking sometimes…If I offended you—"

"I love it." He replied, pulling it out of her reach. When she stopped grabbing for it he placed both hands on the handle and leaned on it, smiling. "How do I look?"

She smiled. "Much better without a suit on." She replied, and he chuckled.

"Thank you, but I meant with my new cane."

"Oh!" She blushed. "It suits you."

"Well," He began, walking over to an umbrella stand he kept beside the front door. "Thanks to you and your help, I don't need this today." He set the cane in the stand and turned to face her, smiling. "However I'm certain it will not go to waste. Thank you, Belle."

"It's amazing what basic first aid will do for a person," She replied dryly, and seemed to shake herself out of whatever reverie she was in. "But you're welcome." She glanced down at his clothes once again. "Were all your suits dirty?"

He shook his head, laughing. "I just thought I'd…try something new today. It looks ridiculous, doesn't it?"

"No." She responded quickly. She cleared her throat. "They suit you. New clothes?"

"No," He answered, confused. "I've had these clothes for years. What makes you say that?"

She reached forward and tugged something from his sleeve. She presented it to him, clearly trying to hide a smile.

"The tags are still attached."

"Oh." He leaned down and found a sticker attached to the outside seam of his jeans. He pulled that off too, feeling self-conscious again. "Well, this is embarrassing."

She laughed at him. "I'll say."

He smiled, feeling things return to normal between them. He gestured towards himself. "This look s incredibly stupid, doesn't it? I'm too old for something this casual."

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at him. "One, no one is too old for casual clothes; two, you aren't old; and three, you're wearing a button-up shirt." She patted him on the shoulder. "That doesn't count as casual."

"I'm wearing a t-shirt underneath," He complained. "And jeans. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Belle raised her eyebrows at him, giggling. "You really tried hard at his, didn't you?"

"No." He lied. "Just answer the question."

"Yes." She answered, unable to hide a smile. "For a man who looks like he's going to die of shame for daring to wear a dress shirt and nice shoes with jeans, it counts for something."

He managed a small smile at her words, a bit of the tension leaving him. "Thank you." He tilted his head towards the paper bag she'd brought, curious.

"What's in the bag?"

She looked embarrassed. "Oh. I thought I'd bring breakfast for us, so I picked up two donuts from Granny's on my way, but…I may have eaten them on the way here. I was hungry!" She added.

He chuckled. "Well, I hope you aren't still hungry, because I made breakfast for us too, but I also ate all of it while waiting for you to arrive. There is still some tea, though."

She laughed. "That sounds lovely."

They settled into what he could already recognize as a routine; she gathered her book and curled up on her chair, and he perched on his stool and opened his briefcase. One of them would get up occasionally to refill their tea, but otherwise they enjoyed a companionable silence that made the hours pass quickly.

Occasionally someone would wander in to speak to Gold, which didn't seem to attract Belle's attention, but after a handful of such distractions she surprised him with a little giggle.

He looked over to see her watching him over her book with amusement.

"What?" He asked.

"I think that the sight of you in regular clothes is more intimidating to people than you in suits is." She noted. "That's the third person to look as if they were going to wet themselves when they saw you sitting there like a regular mortal in jeans."

He smirked. "Do you think that?"

"I'm not afraid of you." She replied easily, returning to her book. "I don't understand the mass appeal it seems to have."

He laughed and stood, coming around the glass countertop to give her his best withering look. He spoke in a low growl. "You mean this doesn't scare you? Most people would do anything to keep from having directed at them."

She glanced up at him over her book again before replying dismissively, "You look as if you've just bitten into a lemon."

"I do not." He responded, hurt.

"Do so."

He went over to a mirror and repeated the face.

"Do not."

When she didn't respond he looked over his shoulder to see she'd shifted in the chair so her back was to him and that she'd returned to reading, effectively dismissing him.

"Do not!" He called, but then he turned back to the mirror and, after making sure she wasn't watching, practiced a few stern faces.

"What on Earth are you doing?"

It took all of Gold's willpower not to jump. He turned towards the doorway to see Regina standing there, hands in the pockets of her black coat. She was giving him what could only be an amused look for her; her lips were pursed and her eyes were narrowed, but an eyebrow was cocked the smallest bit of the corner of her lip twitched.

"Nothing." He answered lamely. He fumbled with his hands but there was no cane to rest upon, no trouser pockets to make him look unbothered by her presence. He put them at his sides. "What do you want, Regina?"

"Well, I came to ask how your problem was going, but I think I like what I found better." She looked him up and down and her eyebrows raised. "Good lord, Rumple, what are you wearing?"

"Casual clothes." He answered between his teeth as she sashayed into the shop and helped herself to some tea. He glanced at Belle and noticed she'd sat up in her chair and, while her face was towards her book, she was watching Regina with an odd expression. Regina didn't seem to notice her.

Regina began to pour herself a cup of tea and then turned to give him another pouty look, shaking the tea pot at him. "Rumple, the tea is gone. You're a terrible host."

"Now isn't a good time, Regina." He said slowly. "Get out."

She looked surprised, leaning her hip against his display case and taking a sip of tea. "Now, now. There's no need to be rude. I'm here to check on _you_, remember." She glaced at his clothes again and wrinkled her nose. "Really, Rumple, you look like a lecherous old homeless man in those clothes. What would ever compel you to wear them?"

"He does not." Came Belle's quiet, malevolent response.

Regina looked towards the sound of Belle's voice. Her eyes widened marginally in recognition and she raised both eyebrows.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Belle responded, slowly raising herself out of the armchair and moving towards Regina with a fire in her eyes that took Gold by surprise. "Don't talk to him like that."

"I'm sorry," Regina began, making a disbelieving little cough in her throat, and giving a tiny shake of her head. She put down her cup and smoothed her coat over her sides, straightening up and giving Belle her full attention. "But who do you think you are to speak to me like that? Who are you?"

"My name is Belle," She replied.

"And why should that name mean anything to me?" Regina demanded. "What are you, his new play thing? Does he pay you to compliment him?"

Belle glared at Regina, and the look in her eyes made Gold shift his weight so he could stop her if she threw herself at Regina.

"I'm his friend, and he doesn't pay me anything to tell the truth. Those clothes look better on him that that outfit does on you."

Regina was taken back, and Gold couldn't help look but glance down at his clothes. He wasn't sure he agreed, but he swelled with pleasure at Belle's defense of him.

Regina stepped slowly towards Belle, a smirk on her face.

"Wait a minute. I do know you." Surprise flitted across Belle's face, but she held her ground.

"We have never met." She answered.

"No, I know you." Regina insisted, continuing to advance slowly on Belle, who took a small step back. "You're that girl who lives in the woods with her crippled fiancé."

"How do you know that?" Belle asked.

"Oh, I'm the mayor, dear. " Regina purred. "I sign the disability checks. It's a real shame that man of yours won't let you work." She leaned and whispered malevolently, "Because I'm also the one who owns that little house you're renting."

Gold grabbed Regina by the back of her coat and dragged her towards the door.

"That's enough, Regina." He growled. "You need to leave."

"But I'm not through talking with you, Gold." She said petulantly.

"Indeed, we have quite a bit to discuss," He responded, his voice dark. "And believe me, we are going to talk, and in great detail. But not right now."

Regina stopped him at the door and planted her feet, shaking her coat from his hands. She crossed her arms and cocked her hip. Her voice was smug.

"Oh? And why not?"

He slammed his fist into the wall next to her head and put his face inches from hers, lowering his voice to a hiss so that Belle couldn't hear.

"Because, my dear, if we have this discussion right now I'm going to paint the walls with your blood and then bury you in a shallow grave." Regina looked alarmed, and glanced over at Belle. "Don't look at her. Don't you ever look at her." He snarled, and Regina dragged her eyes back up to his, her lips parted in shock. "Her presence won't save you. Now get out." He bared his teeth at her. "_Please."  
_  
Regina ducked under his arm and left with less than her usual grace. He watched her go, trying unsuccessfully to swallow the murderous feeling that pounded in his veins.

There was a long moment of silence before Gold finally turned and looked at Belle. She was watching him with wide, wary eyes, but her jaw was set defiantly, and she looked ready for a fight. They stared at each other, weighing their words before Belle finally glanced down at his hand, her tone strained.

"You're bleeding."

He raised his hand. Blood was running freely from his knuckles, which were scraped raw from where he'd punched the brick of the wall. He dropped it back to his side.

"So I am."

She glanced from his hand back up to his face several times but made no move towards him, standing tensely motionless. The seconds ticked by slowly.

"Belle," He began, but she just shook her head.

"What did you say to her?"

"What?" He asked, taken by surprise.

"When you got in her face. You said something to her and then she looked at me, and she looked legitimately fearful for a second. What did you say to her?"

"I told her to stay away from you." His voice was rough.

"Why?" She asked.

"Because you don't know what she's capable of, but if she got it into her mind to hurt you..."

"She's the mayor." Belle responded, as if this explained something.

"She's the mayor because everyone who lives in this town is too afraid to oppose her." He clarified.

"Including you?" She asked.

He looked her seriously in the eye before shaking his head.

"No."

Belle looked away. "Well, if what you've both said is true, it sounds like I may have gotten Richard and I into some trouble."

Gold stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms before he could stop himself, pressing his cheek against her hair and closing his eyes.

"I won't let her cause trouble for you." He promised. "Don't worry."

He felt Belle tense in his arms but he squeezed her harder, needing the contact to believe that she would be okay. She raised an arm and patted him awkwardly on the small of his back a few times.

"Gold," She said quietly after a moment.

"Mmm?"

"Gold," She wheezed. "I can't breathe. And I'm pretty sure you're bleeding all over me."

He looked down her back and immediately let her go. He'd coated the back of her shirt in his blood.

"Sorry." He said quickly.

"You bled all over me, didn't you?" She asked, turning at the hip to try and see her shirt.

"Sorry." He repeated, embarrassed. He pressed the sleeve of his shirt against his knuckles.

"What are you doing?!" She shouted, grabbing his wrist and ripping it away from his hand. "Don't ruin _your _shirt_,_ too!"

"Sorry." He muttered again.

"What are you apologizing for? That's a lot of sorry's." She snapped at him. She held the bottom of her bloodied shirt against his knuckles to staunch the bleeding, and when he flexed his hand he brushed his fingertips against the soft skin of her stomach. He promply moved his fingers away and licked his lips nervously.

"Hugging you, and then for bleeding all over you, and then for bleeding all over me." He responded sullenly. "And for Regina too, I guess, as long as I'm apologizing."

She giggled, shaking her head and giving him an expression that made him hyperaware of how close she was to him.

"That is a lot of things to apologize for. I forgive you for most of it." She gave him an appraising look. "But not for hugging me."

"Why not?" He asked, trying to keep the despair from his voice.

"Because you don't need to apologize for it." She said quietly, and his eyes shot up to hers at the quiet, breathy tone of her voice. She squeezed his hand gently and smiled.

He was suddenly consumed by worry as he watched her carefully, wondering if he was reading the look in her eyes correctly, all the while fearful of how he would survive if he looked into her eyes in a moment and saw hatred burning there.

He slowly unflexed his hand beneath her shirt and brushed it against her silky skin again and, when she didn't move away, he slowly wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her gently against his chest.

They watched each other unblinkingly, and he wondered if she could feel his heart slamming against his chest. He could feel her breath against his lips, and he licked them nervously.

She closed her eyes and leaned forward, pressing her lips tentatively against his, and when he closed his eyes and pulled her tighter against him and wrapped his free hand in her hair, he could only hope that someday, Belle would learn to forgive him for the terrible things she was about to remember.

* * *

**Thank you so much for all of your lovely reviews and favorites and follows, they mean so much to me! I hope you're enjoying the ride, because we have barely begun! More to come.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Belle," Gold groaned, but Belle crushed her lips against his again to silence him. When they finally drew apart, panting,he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He buried his face in her hair when she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, and they held each other for a long moment, trying to keep the moment from passing.

Her phone suddenly vibrated between them, pressed between his thigh and her hip, and he felt her  
tense slowly against him. He nuzzled her hair and murmured into her ear, holding her tighter when she  
began to struggle.

"Belle, sweetheart, it's okay. It's just the phone. Just relax. It can be strange at first, but it will pass. I  
promise."

The phone kept vibrating, and Belle began to struggle in earnest.

"Please let me go." Her voice was rough, and there was an edge of panic to it.

"Belle, darling, it's fine." He ran his hand down her back reassuringly and her hands came up, pushing at  
his shoulders. "I know you're probably furious with me. I can explain. Please, at least give me  
that chance-"

Her voice rose an octave. "Gold, let me go!"

He froze and she slipped from his grasp and stumbled several steps back, her fingers reaching up and  
touching her lips. There was a look of horror growing in her eyes.

"What did you just call me?" He asked quietly, his hands beginning to tremble.

His question seemed to throw her off, and the panic in her eyes was replaced briefly for a moment by  
confusion.

"Gold."

"Why would you call me that?" He asked, raising his voice. Belle took another few steps away from him.

"W-Why would I call you anything else?"

He stared at her, dumbstruck. "It didn't work."

"What didn't work?" She asked, glancing towards the door. He made a step towards it and he saw her  
try to hide the panic that bloomed across her face.

He held up his hands in a sign of harmlessness, trying to be civil around the fear and anger that was  
threating to choke him, but didn't move from his post between her and the door.

"The kiss." He said quietly. He searched her face desperately, silently begging her and whatever fates  
would listen to understand.

Belle shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about."

Gold was overwhelmed, and he could feel himself trembling. He began to pace.

"No. No. This-you're-we-it's supposed to work. It was supposed to work!" He sputtered. Some part of  
him recognized that he was shouting, but he didn't care. "Why didn't it work?!" He froze, and suddenly  
spun to stare at Belle, wild eyed.

"Do you love him?" He asked softly.

"Do I-"

Her eyes widened and she stumbled back as he advanced on her quickly. Her back hit one of the display  
cases and she flinched away from him when he grabbed her by the arms.

"Do you love him!?" He snarled.

"Gold!" She pleaded as she tried to turn her body away from him. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Richard!" He screamed at her. "Do you love him?!"

"Of course I love him!" She cried.

His grip on her arms loosened marginally as he processed this, and Belle's expression shifted from fear  
to determination in an instant. Pain exploded across every nerve ending when she slammed her knee  
into his bad one, making him howl in agony and immediately dropping him to the floor in a heap. His head hit the hard floor, and the world went dark.

He had no idea how long he laid on the floor. It felt like seconds, but when he opened his eyes the shop  
was silent and the floor was freezing. The shop door was still propped open, and the wind had picked  
up.

"Belle?"

He raised himself up on his elbows, disoriented, and processed vaguely that there was a lump on the  
side of his head where it had struck the floor. It was dark outside. Belle was gone.

* * *

He had to drag himself to the door to retrieve the cane he'd received from Belle, and it took several  
tries to stand even with its assistance. He hobbled over to the door and quietly closed it, feeling utterly  
drained.

He'd never once considered that true love's kiss would ever fail to bring Belle's memories back.  
He'd been concerned about her fiancé, about her _rejecting_ the kiss, about her rejecting _him_ after  
remembering all the awful things he'd done, but…

This was true love's kiss, damnit. If magic couldn't fix this then what had it ever been good for?

_What if she never regains her memories?_ He wondered bleakly. _What if she never remembers who I am? What_  
_we were?_

He limped his way up the stairs slowly and, after glancing into his bedroom and seeing all of his  
clothes—the clothes that Belle had washed—on his bed, headed for the living room. He glanced at the  
soggy, useless bag of water on the floor that had once been an ice pack, but decided against making a  
new one to help ease the swelling on his knee. He stubbornly clung to the idea that it hadn't been  
the ice pack that had helped; it had been Belle, and it was such theories that he was going to hold dear,  
his health be damned.

He curled up on his expansive couch and closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to hide from the world.

* * *

He snapped awake at the sound of a familiar tapping, squinting at the bright sunlight that was streaming  
through the window above his head. He had no idea what time it was.

"Belle?" He called, throwing the blanket he'd wrapped around himself to the floor. He stumbled to  
his feet and grabbed his cane, limping through the living room and noting vaguely that his leg was  
screaming at him in pain. He threw open the door to the stairs and choked back a curse as he nearly  
bowled over Emma standing there.

"Sheriff Swan!" He snarled, stepping back in shock and frustration. "Someone is at my door. Get out of  
my way."

The blonde held her hands out to steady him.

"Easy, Gold. _I'm_ at your door. That was me knocking."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Gold's expression changed from bewilderment to  
fury.

"This is my home, Miss Swan. How in the hell did you get to this door?"

"You left your pawn shop's door unlocked." She explained.

"You can't barge in here just because the door isn't barred shut!" He responded angrily. "Get the hell out of  
my home!"

She stepped inside, and it took every ounce of his effort in that moment to not push her down the stairs and shut the door.

"I'm here on business, Gold. Trust me, this isn't a social call."

Gold glared at her. "And just what business is that, exactly, Miss Swan?"

She glanced down at his hand.

"What happened to your hand?"

He looked at it and made a dismissive noise.

"What does it matter to you?"

She was watching him carefully, fingering the sleeve of her jacket. Her expression was serious.

"We got a call this morning from Richard Blanc saying that his fiancé came home last night covered in  
blood, with bruises on her arms, and wouldn't speak to him. There was a tip that she had last been seen  
with you, arguing."

Gold stared at her in shock.

"Exactly what are you accusing me of, Sherriff Swan?" He felt ill.

_Bruises on her arms?_

"Richard says his fiancé was—"

"Belle. Her name is Belle." He growled.

Swan's expression became suspicious.

"He said _Belle_ was very upset, and wouldn't tell him what had happened. Wouldn't even speak to him.  
He thought that you had threatened her to keep quiet. Is that true?"

Gold's face contorted with rage.

"I would _never_—That isn't true!"

"That's what I thought." Emma replied quietly, and Gold gave her a withering look.

"And why would you suddenly believe me, dearie?"

"Richard wanted to press charges. He wanted me to come down here and arrest you for assault—"

"Which you have no proof of." He growled.

"-And to throw you in jail and lock away the key. But when I was leaving, Belle pulled me aside."

Gold suddenly felt lightheaded.

"And what did she say?" He asked quietly.

"She told me she didn't want to press charges, and asked me not to arrest you. She said that the blood  
was from an encounter with Regina, which I can believe."

"You are nothing if not unbiased when it comes to Regina." He said dryly. Emma rolled her eyes at him,  
but a small blush crept onto her cheeks. Gold ignored her.

"So she called off the dogs, then?" Hope flickered inside of him. If Belle wanted to just pretend his  
outburst had never happened, if she hadn't told Richard about..

"But she did ask me to pass along a message to you. A favor."

"Anything." He responded before Emma had even finished speaking. "Anything she wants."

Emma's expression turned to one of pity. She reached up and squeezed Gold's shoulder sympathetically.

"She wants you to stay away from her."

Gold leaned back and stared at her in shock.

"She wants _what_?"

"Look, I don't know what happened between you two, but—"

"She wants me _to stay away from her_?"

"Rather than have you arrested and have a restraining order put on you? Yes." Emma said, watching him  
in frustration. He ignored her, and she continued. She sounded suddenly hesitant.

"Look, she also mentioned some things.." Gold turned and stared her piercingly, and he couldn't help  
but be impressed at her bravery when she didn't break eye contact.

"Mentioned what?"

She sighed. "Look, this is none of my business, and she mentioned it off the record, and only because  
she was worried about you, but she asked me to make sure you were…alright."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I'm fine."

"She said that you mentioned some things…And she seemed as if she thought you were crazy, to me it  
sounded an awful lot like you might be…" She seemed lost for words. "Under the same..._mindset_, If you  
want to call it that, as Henry."

"And what mindset is that, Sheriff?"

Emma tilted her head, her expression deadpan.

"You know, that people here live two lives. That they don't remember who they are. That there is some  
sort of curse-"

"No." Gold said quickly. "I don't know where she got that impression, but sadly sheriff, your boy is alone  
in that." As much as he hated Regina; as much as the two of them fought, Emma was her problem. He  
wouldn't make it worse by admitting to knowing anything. Besides, he didn't care about how the curse  
affected the town. His only part in it was Belle, and that was something he'd take care of on his own.

"So whatever it was that you said to her, it was unrelated?"

"Belle must have gotten the wrong idea," He stated matter-of-factly. Emma seemed to believe  
him. "That's a ridiculous theory, sorry to say. No offense to your boy."

"Alright then." Emma nodded slowly and looked around his home. "Well, you aren't being charged  
for anything, so I don't have anything else for you." She looked at him searchingly. "Unless there is  
something you want to talk about, we're all done here."

He hesitated for a moment before asking,

"She said that? She thought that I was like Henry?"

"Well, no, she doesn't know about Henry's book…"

"Did you mention it?"

"No. "

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't." He smiled imploringly. "I don't want her thinking I'm caught up in that  
sort of thing."

Emma nodded. "I won't. Anything else?"

Gold shook his head and opened the door for her politely. He tried to keep the mocking tone from his  
voice.

"No. For once, Miss Swan, this isn't something that involves you. But I appreciate you passing along the  
information. Have a good day."

* * *

Gold stood silently, listening. The second the door to his shop downstairs shut he growled, running his  
hands through his hair, and resisted the urge to break something.

Belle had called off Richards charges against him, and had denied that anything had happened between  
them. That was good. But she told Emma that she thought he was disturbed in the head. That was bad.  
She had also passed along that she wanted Gold to stay away from her. That was the worst.

_And where in the hell did she get bruises?_ He wondered, furious. _I'm going to break the bastard's face_  
_who touched her._

His first course of action was to grab Belle's silky blue dress from its hanger in his laundry room. He'd hid  
it when she'd come over for breakfast, and had cleaned it as soon as she left. He'd forgotten to give it  
back, but that worked out because right now he desperately needed an excuse to bump into her.

I just need to make sure she's alright. He promised himself. I need to clear things up between us.

He limped downstairs, grabbing his car keys off the coffee table as he went.

"Now, dearie," He mused to himself. "Where do you go when you aren't curled up in my shop?"

* * *

Two hours later, he pulled over and put his head in his hands. He had a headache; his leg was killing  
him, and he was very aware that he was still wearing his ridiculous 'casual clothes', but he was no closer  
to finding Belle. He'd searched everywhere; the grocery store, Granny's, even Storybrooke's pathetic  
excuse for a library, to no avail. He sighed heavily.

There was only one option left.

He pulled into the drive to Belle's home minutes later. He hadn't even gotten fully out of the car before  
the front door flew open and Gaston wheeled himself out, shouting at Gold.

"Get out of here!" He called. "Before I call the cops!"

Gold stepped out of the car and held his hands up. "I just want to talk to Belle."

"She doesn't want to talk to you." Gaston growled as Gold advanced on him. "Are you even listening to  
me? Go away!"

Gold stopped a foot from Gaston, putting both hands on the handle of his cane and narrowing his eyes  
at him.

"Or what?" He whispered maliciously. "You'll roll over me?"

In one fluid motion, Gaston ripped Gold's cane from his hands, knocking him off balance, and swung. Gold had barely enough time  
to flinch before it smashed across his face, making him stumble to his knees.

"Yeah, something like that." Gaston snarled, hitting him across the back with the cane. "Not so tough  
now, huh? Thought a crippled man couldn't fight back?"

Gold rolled off the patio and tried to stumble to his feet, staring at Gaston in shock. Gaston brandished  
Gold's cane at him.

"You traumatize my fiancé, put your hands on her, tell her God knows what, scare her shitless, and then  
assume you can just walk in here and brush past me because I'm crippled?" He shouted. "This isn't part  
of your kingdom, Gold, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to protect her. Now get out, before I go get  
something that will sting more than your pride!"

Gold could feel the side of his face swelling where he'd been struck, and he spat out a mouthful of  
blood, but he stumbled to his feet and glared at Gaston.

"No." He said quietly. "Not until I see Belle."

He took a step onto the porch and waited for Gaston to swing at him again before he dashed past him  
and into the house, slamming the door in his face.

"Belle!" He shouted. "I need to speak with you!"

Gaston's mocking laugh came from the other side of the door.

"She isn't even here, dumbass!"

"No!" He growled, throwing himself to his feet and stumbling down a hallway that looked to head to  
bedrooms. He threw open every door in the house in a matter of minutes, but there was no sign of Belle  
other than the shirt he'd bled all over the night before draped over a chair in one of the bedrooms. He  
stood there, panting from the pain in his leg and furious, while Gaston let himself back into the house  
and sat across the living room from him, watching him quietly. Gold looked over at him.

"Where is she?" He asked in a growl.

"Now why would I tell you that?" Gaston replied. He looked pleased.

Gold glared at him, frustrated by his cockiness. "Why are you suddenly all smiles?"

Gaston smirked at him. "Because I finally have the proof I need to keep you away from Belle."

"Which is?"

"Breaking and entering."

Gold rolled his eyes and pointed at his face, where he could feel one of his eyes swelling.

"Assault."

Gaston laughed. "Self defense."

They glared at each other for a long moment before Gaston continued, unperturbed.

"I couldn't get you locked up last night because it was Belle's call, and for some reason she wanted to  
defend you despite whatever it was you did to her, but now, it's my decision." He gave Gold a dark  
look. "You'll never hurt her again, Gold."

"I didn't do anything to her." Gold whispered with quiet malevolence.

"You can deny everything up and down, and maybe you're telling the truth, but the bruises on her arms  
tell a different tale." He responded. "You tell me, Gold. Answer me one thing. Where else would she  
have gotten them?"

Gold stared at him for a long moment before finally answering.

"I don't know."

"That's what I thought." He glared at Gold, naked hatred in his eyes before he spoke quietly.

"If I ever see you around here again, I won't bother to beat you in a fight or call the cops. I'll just kill  
you." Gaston moved out of the way and pointed to the door. "Now get out."

* * *

Emma was waiting for him when he pulled up to his shop a while later, leaning against the hood of her  
cruiser. There was a pair of handcuffs dangling from her fingertips.

"Was it worth it?" She called when he opened the car door.

He got out of his car and gave her a tired look. Her eyes widened when she took in his state.

"Woah, Gold. Are you okay?"

He ignored her, leaning against his car to keep the weight off his leg.

"I've had quite the day. Are you here to arrest me, Sheriff?"

Emma fingered the handcuffs and watched him warily.

"Richard Blanc called and told us that—"

"Let me guess. That I'd broken into his home in search of his fiancé, and, when I couldn't find her,  
departed?"

"Yeah." She said slowly. "Is that true?"

"Yes."

They stared at each other for a long minute before Gold sighed.

"Are you going to arrest me or not, Sheriff? I have better things to do than stand here."

Emma seemed to debate for a moment. "You're being charged with breaking and entering."

Gold understood immediately. "And how much is bail?"

"Eight hundred."

He pulled out his wallet and, after leafing through the contents, handed her a handful of neatly folded  
bills.

Emma's look of pity was pissing him off. She glanced down at the offered money.

"I'm supposed to take you down to the station to book you, at least."

He pulled out another neatly folded hundred dollar bill and added it to the stack.

"And are you going to?"

She reached out and slowly took the bail money, handing his bribe back to him, and for a moment he was grateful she was the worst sheriff he'd ever encountered.

"No, but that's because I can see recognize someone who isn't going to cause any more problems  
regardless of whether they're behind bars for a night or not." She backed away and nodded to him.  
"Have a good night, Gold. Try to stay out of trouble."

* * *

Gold spent three days hidden in his home, recovering. He passed the hours on his couch, icepacks on his  
face and leg, doing his best to ignore the throbbing pain that had become his whole body and his heart. He answered  
calls as he got them about his business, but otherwise left his tenants alone, preferring to let them  
squirm at his silence over the past week.

When the swelling went down and his bruises had been reduced to yellow and purple smudges on his  
face and back on the fourth day, he finally made his way downstairs to check his mail. He opened his box and  
made a mental note to remind his tenants that it was not okay to drop their payments in his personal mailbox.

It had been stuffed to the brim with envelopes. His silence had scared them so much that it appeared, for once,  
that most of them had paid their rent either early or on time without a single word on his part.

He gathered up all the envelopes and retreated back inside, keeping his shop sign to 'closed' when he  
shut the door. He dumped them all at his perch and, after pouring himself a cup of tea, sat down to sort  
through them all.

Most were, as he'd suspected, payments on the various rental properties and business he owned, and  
he quickly become tired of leafing through them all. A few were notes explaining rather nervously why  
rent would be late for one reason or the other, which he noted down as his first stops when he was  
feeling well enough to terrorize again.

He'd just opened the last late note when the chime above his door sounded, and he closed his eyes  
slowly in annoyance.

"Shops closed," He called, and he squeezed the bridge of his nose, frustrated. "If you could read, you'd  
know that."

"Gold," A quiet voice said.

His eyes flew open and he looked up in shock. Belle stood at the doorway, her hand on the doorknob,  
looking unsure. He stared at her, aghast.

"Belle." He whispered.

They watched each other warily for a long moment before he remembered his manners and stood,  
ushering her inside.

"Please, come in. Make yourself at home. Can-Can I get you anything? Tea?" He realized he was  
babbling and shut up, biting the inside of his cheek.

"I'm sorry." He added lamely, chastising himself for not saying it first.

She stepped inside and shut the door gently behind her. Her eyes widened when she saw him.

"Jesus, Gold. What happened to you?"

He shook his head.

"Never mind me, dearie, how are you?"

Belle shrugged, smiling sadly at him.

"I'm okay."

His heart broke as he searched her eyes for clues, but she revealed nothing. He wanted to brush his  
knuckles against her cheek, but he didn't want to frighten her by even getting near her. He'd lost the  
privilege of touching her.

"Why are you here, Belle? I was told you didn't want to see me again."

"I didn't," She responded, and her eyes seemed to be searching his, too. "But then I changed my mind."

"Why?" He whispered.

"I don't know." She answered simply, and she leaned back on her heels to watch him. Her eyes were  
sad.

"Belle, I'm so sorry." He ran his hands through his hair. "I behaved beastialy."

"You scared the shit out of me, Gold." She said, her tone cutting. He flinched at her words and looked at  
the floor.

"I'm sorry."

"I thought you were going to hurt me." She continued.

"I would never hurt you." He replied, unable to look her in the eye. He felt like a beaten dog.

"You shouted at me. You went completely out of your mind."

"I'm sorry." He repeated, his hands trembling.

"Stop saying that." She said, and he looked up to see her watching him carefully.

"Okay." He replied.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Belle's lip twitched in a small smile.

"What?" He asked.

She shook her head, her tone one of dark humor. "I think if I'd just told you to cut your own throat,  
you'd have done it." She responded.

"Without question."

She shook her head again and gave him one of her uncomfortably long, piercing looks that Gold was  
certain looked directly into his soul.

"Why?" She asked. "Why would you go through such lengths for me? You don't even know me. We  
know nothing about each other."

"For the same reason why you're here, despite everything." He anwered simply.

Belle surprised him by rolling her eyes.

"Don't give me that halfway answer, Gold. Don't hide behind charming answers that appeal to my  
emotions. Tell me the truth."

He leaned back against one of the display cases and regarded her carefully.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"You'll think I'm crazy." He warned.

"I already think you're a raving lunatic." She responded, and there was no humor in her expression. "So  
you've got nothing to lose."

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, debating for a long moment before Belle spoke again.

"Either you tell me right now what was going on with you the other night, or I'm leaving and never  
coming back."

"Alright, alright." He said. "You win. Take it easy."

He motioned her over to the armchairs he still hadn't moved and walked over to the door to lock it  
before he caught her watching him warily. He locked it and then handed her the key.

"You're free to leave at any point." He told her carefully. "I just don't want anyone to walk in and  
interrupt what I have to say. Please, don't be frightened of me."

"I'm not." She responded, but she took the key from him and held it loosely in her palm. He poured  
them each a cup of tea, which Belle refused, before settling himself across from her. He fiddled with his  
cup for a long moment.

"Well, go on." She said. He looked up at her nervously.

"I'm getting there. Don't rush me."

"You look positively ill, Gold." She responded, and he laughed a nervous little titter.

"Your powers of observation serve you well, dearie." He glanced at her and saw the ghost of a smile  
beneath her stony façade, and he sighed.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," He prefaced before forcing himself to continue. "But we were  
once…close."

She raised an eyebrow at him and he hurriedly continued, trying to balance the need to be thorough  
with his desire to have the conversation over as quickly as possible.

"In another land. Another…life, if you want to call it that, we knew each other. We were different then."

"Different how?"

He growled and ran his hands through his hair one more time.

"It doesn't matter how we were different, the point is that we were separated for a long time. I thought  
you were dead. And then we—the whole town—was transported here by magic. Everyone lost their  
memories."

He looked up to see Belle giving him a strange look.

"Questions?" He asked.

"Why did you lose your mind after you—after I—after we kissed?"

"True love's kiss was supposed to return your memories. I thought that it would make you remember  
me."

She leaned back and laughed unabashedly at him. He sighed.

"You're a lunatic." She said, shaking her head. "More of a lunatic than I pegged you for."

He glared at her. "Are you going to leave, then?"

She shrugged, crossing her legs at the knee and threading her fingers together.

"Well, now I have to know how the story ends." She replied. "Go on. Convince me."

He shook his head.

"I have no proof, except that I know you enjoy green tea, reading, and that you would make the most  
adorable little laugh when I'd say things that would make most men quail in fear."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I see."

He found himself smiling despite himself. "You were different in that world. Sweet, and innocent, and  
trusting." His eyes were distant. "Delicate as a flower, but surprisingly tough. I was impressed with you  
from the first moment we met."

He shook himself to see her watching him with an odd look on her face. "You think I'm crazy." He stated.

"I think that you believe what it is you're saying," Belle responded carefully. "But whether that's  
because you're crazy, I'm not sure yet."

"Yet?" He asked hopefully. She laughed.

"Don't get your hopes up, Gold."

He leaned back and steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them and watching her carefully.

"I understand that this doesn't change anything between us," He said seriously. "And it's fine that you  
don't believe me. I'm not sure I'd believe me. But I must beg you to not repeat what I've just told you.  
You can tell yourself it's to keep people from thinking I'm crazy, which I'm sure they would, but believe  
me when I say that there are people who, if they found out, would want to hurt you. You can call them  
crazy, too, if that makes this all easier for you to rationalize."

She looked at him in surprise. "You're serious."

"Deathly serious."

She nodded slowly. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you, Belle." He smiled.

She took a sip from her tea and gazed vaguely around the shop for a long moment, lost in thought.

"If you're lying, Gold, I must say that this is the most elaborate, unnecessary reasoning behind kissing  
me that I've ever heard."

He stiffened at the idea of other men reasoning their way around kissing her before curtly responding.

"You kissed me."

She looked away.

"It was a mistake. I lost my mind for a moment, that's all. And you weren't helping."

His smile faded.

"A mistake?"

"I'm _engaged_, Gold!" She nearly shouted, standing suddenly and pacing. He watched her warily. "It's not  
going to happen again. I feel terrible. This isn't me—this has never been me. If Richard knew-He was so  
upset when I came home. My shirt, your blood...He was out of his mind."

"He loves you." Gold said quietly. "He just wants to keep you safe. Same as any other man." He gestured  
towards the yellow and purple bruise that covered the right side of his face. "He nearly killed me when I  
came after you."

Belle stared at him in shock, taking in his injuries with wide eyes.

"Richard did that to you?"

He nodded. "He also threatened my life if he saw me near you again."

"He's insane."

"I hate to defend him, dearie," Gold clarified. "But I'd have done the same if our roles were reversed.  
Except rather than threatening to, I would have just killed him. Then again, I'm a little more…mobile  
than he is."

"Why?" She seemed utterly confused. "Because you frightened me?"

"I hurt you, Belle." His words came out dripping with self-loathing.

"You scared the shit out of me." She responded. "You didn't hurt me."

"I put my hands on you. I hurt you. Both Emma and Gaston made a point to mention it." His voice was  
bitter. "That isn't okay, Belle. I deserved much worse than a beating at the hands of your fiancé with my  
own cane."

"Hurt me how?"

"Bruises."

"Bruises?" She asked, confused. "What bruises?"

"On your arms."

She surprised him by grabbing the hem of her sweater and pulling it over her head, revealing a lavender  
colored tank top underneath. She showed her arms to him.

"There are no bruises, Gold."

He grasped her gently by the elbow and pulled her to him, running his fingers over her arms as he  
closely analyzed her skin.

"No bruises." He whispered, looking up at her with wide eyes.

"No bruises." She confirmed.

"I didn't hurt you."

"Not physically."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap before he could stop himself. He choked  
back a sob and buried his face in her hair.

"Gold?" She asked, alarmed.

"I thought I'd—Belle, I couldn't live with myself if I'd hurt you."

She relaxed in his arms and patted his back gently.

"You need to let me go, Gold." She said softly, and he complied. She scooted out of his lap and gave him  
a small smile.

"I need to get home."

He nodded quickly.

"Would you like me to drive you?"

She laughed.

"I think we've just established that is a terrible idea."

"Oh. Right." He laughed. "But I can bring you most of the way."

She smiled at him. "Ever the tempter of fate, Gold."

He smirked. "You have no idea."

* * *

He pulled his car to the side of the road outside her drive fifteen minutes later, and he looked over to  
see her giving him a searching look.

"Will I see you again?" She asked.

He looked at her in surprise.

"I've just told you enough to make you throw me in a mental asylum, and you're asking me if you'll see  
me again?" He asked.

She nodded.

"I never finished my book, and there are plenty more on that shelf," She replied hesitantly.

He laughed. "You are welcome at any time, Belle." He dug the key to his shop out of his pocket and  
handed it to her. "Help yourself."

She looked at him in shock. "You trust me that much?"

"My dear," He replied, "You have trusted me more in the last two weeks than anyone has in years. It's  
only polite I return the favor." He smiled. "I'll see you around, Belle."

She took the key and gave him a beautiful smile in return. "I'll see you around, Gold." She got out and  
shut the door, but then leaned down to peer at him through the open window.

"Oh, Gold?"

"Yes?"

Her face twisted with a contrite little smile.

"I'm sorry I kicked you in the knee. I swear, I was aiming for your crotch."

He couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Belle showed up halfway through the next afternoon, suddenly appearing at the doorway to his pawn  
shop in a flurry of gusting leaves and blowing hair.

"Windy outside, dearie?" He asked, glancing up at her to keep her from seeing the ridiculous smile that  
had split his face when he glimpsed her passing by his window seconds before entering.

She glared at him from beneath the tangle of her hair.

"No, I just like to make an entrance."

He stood and helped her remove her periwinkle colored peacoat, placing it carefully on the coat rack as  
she untangled her hair.

"You're late today," He mused, grateful that their playful relationship seemed to be back.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I wasn't aware that you were keeping track."

"I wasn't." He answered, just a little too quickly. "But this is the first day I've opened the shop since my  
unfortunate accident, and I've already had your absence pointed out to me more times than I care to  
recall."

"By who?" She asked, confused.

"Regulars," He responded. "Apparently your presence here made me less frightening. Or maybe it just  
gave them something to chat about, because everyone that's walked in has looked for you the moment  
they came in, and then found it of pressing importance to point out to me that you were, in fact, not  
here."

"I was only _here_ for a week."

"Ah, yes." He said, nodding sagely. "But your radiance lit up the beast's lair so much that it's darkness in  
your absence was sorely noted by all."

She punched him in the shoulder.

"Don't be an ass, Gold. And stop comparing yourself to a beast."

"Touchy today, aren't we?" He grumbled, rubbing his bicep.

She helped herself to a cup of tea and ignored him, choosing instead to curl up with her book.

He'd settled himself into his work and had just brought his own cup of tea to his lips before Belle spoke.

"Rumple?"

"Yes?" He asked mildly, and then his heart stopped. He registered the sound of the cup that had been  
in his hand shattering on the floor, and then Belle's face was all he could see. She grasped his hands in  
her own and it took several attempts for his mind to clear enough for him to understand what she was  
saying. He registered that his hands were trembling.

"Gold?" He was finally able to understand her words, and he gaped at her as if he'd never seen her  
before. "Gold, are you okay?"

"W-What did you just call me?" He stammered.

"It was a joke." She blurted out, her voice tight with concern. Her face was white as a sheet. "I just  
wanted to see how you'd react. Jesus Christ, Gold, you look like you're going to pass out. Are you  
alright?"

"Why-How.._How_?" He asked, unable to form words.

"Regina called you that when she was in here before." She explained, searching his eyes in concern. "I  
thought it was just a pet name."

He pulled his hands away from hers and ran them over the clammy skin of his face. He shied away from  
the hand she placed on his shoulder.

"Gold?"

"Don't ever call me that." His voice was rough.

"Why?"

_I can't stand hearing my name spoken through the voice of someone who no longer inhabits your body_,  
was his immediate thought, and he was appalled by it. He loved this young, charming woman, who told  
him to stop being an ass and put him in his well-deserved place when he moved from it.

Didn't he?

He opened his eyes and it broke his heart to see her watching him with such anguish in her eyes.

"Just don't." He replied.

"Okay." Her voice was small, and remorse was written all over her face. He was taken off guard to see  
her normally confident self so cowed by his words.

He reached out and squeezed one of her hands gently, disturbed by the direction his feelings were  
going.

"I'm sorry." He said, and he truly meant it. "But that name…I just don't think I could bear to hear you  
speak it without knowing the significance."

Belle's eyes widened marginally in understanding and he turned away, unable to stand the look of  
disbelief that he knew would be on her face.

"That was your name." She whispered. "In the other world."

He didn't respond.

"Wasn't it?" She urged gently.

"I'm not in the mood to be patronized." He said quietly.

"I'm not patronizing you." She said, and he glanced at her. There was no sign of disbelief on her face,  
only burning curiosity. "I just want to know. Was..is your name Rumple?"

He closed his eyes slowly as she said his name again, feeling pain sing through every nerve.

"I'm sorry." She said quickly. "Let me rephrase. Is your real name Gold?"

"People have gotten themselves into terrible messes for asking me that question, Belle." He replied  
quietly.

"Are you threatening me?" She asked, shocked.

"No. I'm just telling you that that isn't a question I'm going to answer." He attempted to return to his  
work, but Belle put her hands on either side of his paperwork from across the display case.

"Who is Gaston?"

He looked up at her in shock.

"Why do you know that name?" He asked, thrown off balance by her question.

"Last night. You said that Emma and Gaston had told you about the bruises on my arms. That they'd  
accused you of hurting me. Who is Gaston?"

They stared at each other for a long moment, Gold's mind trying frantically to come up with an excuse.

"Richard." She whispered, seeing the truth in his eyes. "Richard is Gaston."

"Belle-"

"Richard existed in this other world?" She asked, her voice rising, and he stood and held his hands out.

"Belle, let me explain—"

"Who was he? Was he different? Was he crippled?" The questions seemed to leave her lips as they  
crossed her mind. "Were we engaged?"

"What? No—" He began, and then hesitated. "I mean, well, yes, but—"

"But?!" She squeaked. "What is that supposed to mean? Did you know him?"

"I thought you didn't believe me!" He responded. "Why the sudden interest?"

"I don't know! Curiosity, and the fact that you seem damn careful about what you teach me about it!"

He was about to respond, but then the bell above his door chimed, making both of them jump. He  
looked over to see the store manager, Greg, standing here, looking mortified. He realized he and Belle  
had been leaning over the display case in their shouting match, their faces inches apart. Belle seemed to  
realize this too, because they both jerked back quickly.

"What do you want, Greg?" He snapped, his patience gone. The middle aged man looked truly terrified,  
digging one of his chubby fingers into the knot of his tie which, Gold could tell from even across the  
store, was useless because it was a clip-on.

"T-The repairs on the store are done." He managed to sputter out, and Gold turned his full attention to  
the man, his lip curling in fury.

"The repairs are done." He repeated with quiet maliciousness. Greg nodded, sweat beading on his  
forehead, and Gold slowly stalked around the partition towards him. "The repairs are done? It's been a  
week." He snarled. "I gave you a day."

"I know, but—"

"You never contacted me, never thought to _let me know that the store has been closed this whole_  
_time—_"

"But—You were ill. There was no way for us to-"

"And that's supposed to be an excuse?" He growled.

"Gold." Belle called from somewhere behind him.

"Hang on, Belle. I'll be through in just a moment." He glared at Greg, who was quailing under his full  
attention.

"Answer the question."

"We got the repairs done as quickly as we could." He sputtered apologetically. "We opened the store,  
but then the health department—it wasn't safe—"

"Why do I even keep you around, Greg?" He asked. "Tell me, because I really want to know."

"Gold." The cutting tone in Belle's voice stopped Gold short. "Leave him alone. Can't you see you're just  
frightening him more?"

The bug-eyed, unbelieving look on Greg's face as he turned to watch Belle would have been funny if  
Gold hadn't been so shocked.

"Are you telling me how to deal with my own tenants, Miss French?" He asked, turning to Belle slowly.  
He stumbled back a step when he found Belle less than a foot from him.

"I'm asking you to leave the poor man alone." She said, her voice soft but her expression hard.

He bit the inside of his cheek, torn with indecision, before he finally turned to Greg.

"Get out."

Greg turned and stumbled for the door, but Belle called his name and spun around again to give her his  
full attention, his face white.

"Y-Yes?"

She strode over, stopping when she was shoulder to shoulder with Gold.

"Thank you for fixing the store. I'm sure you worked as quickly as possible."

He nodded profusely.

"Of course." He glanced at Gold, his eyes wide.

"Don't mind him," She said politely, and she put a hand gently on Gold's arm as she spoke. "Sometimes  
he doesn't know when to bark instead of bite."

Gold stared at her in shock as the door shut behind the man, fury warring with respect inside of him.

"Did you just—"

"Yes."

She stared right back at him unflinchingly, and after a long moment he was the one to glance away.

Respect won out over fury.

"You are unbelievable." He muttered in awe, shaking his head. He couldn't help the broad smile that  
slowly grew across his face.

He looked over to her to see her watching him in wary confusion.

"What's so funny?" She asked.

"You." He answered, stepping forward and brushing a stray hair behind her ear. "Underneath your big  
blue eyes and your kind words and your sweet voice, there is a woman who isn't afraid to crack a whip."  
He'd meant his words to be funny, but they came out with a soft reverence that betrayed him.

"Isn't that who I was?" She asked, taking him off guard. "Please," She said softly, taking hold of his wrist  
before he could turn away. "I'm just trying to understand this theory of yours."

"Not entirely," He replied honestly, before he could stop himself. "You were unafraid to point out  
my shortcomings, but you usually did so with more...tact. And you never interfered with my business  
dealings."

When he looked at her again he was sure he'd said too much, because he could see her mind working  
behind her eyes. After a moment she let go of his wrist, and he inwardly cringed to think of what her  
next question would be.

"So," She said slowly, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. "You think I'm tactless, then?"

He barked a laugh, taken off guard yet again. "Just because you used more tact doesn't mean that you  
lack it entirely now."

"But you think I have less."

"I think you use less. I'm sure you could still put on the innocent act if you wanted to."

"You are such an ass." She responded, puffing up in indignation, and it made him laugh. The surprise on  
her face made him laugh even harder.

"What did I say?" She asked after a moment, bewildered.

"Oh, dearie." He responded between chuckles. "It's just that the old me would have adored the new  
you."

He looked up and noticed her watching him intently, reading between his words. He gave up on trying to  
keep her from the entire truth for a moment.

"No," He said, answering the unspoken question burning in her eyes. "We are not the same person." He  
watched her expression, unable to keep from smiling at the curiosity he found there. "Belle, if I didn't  
know any better, I'd say you looked as if you were considering the truth in my words."

That got to her. She shut her mouth, which had been hanging open a little in wonder at his words, and  
glared at him. She looked flustered.

"Do not. You've just tempted me with your mental delusion, and you just happen to be a good  
storyteller with it."

He leaned towards her and whispered conspiratorially, "I think you're lying."

She leaned back and gave him a pouting look, but didn't deny his words.

"So, in a world where this delusion is real, how does that work?"

"How does what work?"

"Having two people inhabit the same body."

"It's not like that." He hedged.

"So he isn't in there?" She reached forward and tapped the side of his head. He closed an eye and  
leaned away from the contact. "This Rump-"

"Stop." He grabbed her wrist, cutting her off curtly, and she looked so chastened that he relented a  
little. "It would be like me asking you to recall your ten year old self. You couldn't do it."

"So this old you who would have adored me was a child? Or did he just act like one?" She teased.

"You have no idea." He replied dryly, and that darkened his mood. He changed the subject.

"Why is your fiancé okay with you being here?" He asked her suddenly, and it was her turn to avoid his  
gaze. She made a noncommittal noise.

He gawked at her. "He doesn't know you're here."

She blushed and looked away.

"What did you tell him? That you were going shopping for a day?"

"I had errands to run."

"_I'm an errand_?" He growled.

"No." She said, and they exchanged wounded looks. Belle sighed.

"I don't know why I didn't tell him." She mumbled.

"Maybe you shouldn't." He hedged. "He already told me I couldn't see you. What if he tells you the  
same?"

"I'm not going to sneak around behind his back to see a friend." She said. "I'll just explain to him  
the truth about the other night, that we had a disagreement and that you fightened me, but that  
I've spoken with you and it's all cleared up now." She smiled at Gold, who looked uneasy. "He'll  
understand."

"That isn't the whole truth." Gold said quietly. "You're still lying to him."

She bit her lip and seemed to debate for a moment before responding.

"I'll tell him the whole truth."

Gold was truly uneasy at her words.

"Belle—"

"No." She said, with a tone of finality. "If we're going to be friends, Gold, I can't run around lying. I'm not  
going to continue to lose my integrity covering up a mistake."

* * *

It had begun to softly rain that evening, and after much cajoling he convinced her to let him give her  
another ride home. The afternoon had become routine once they'd stopped yelling at each other; her  
reading, and him working, but it had held a hint of preciousness to it, as if they were both aware that  
they may not see each other again for a while.

Gold had tried several times to make her reconsider, but every time Belle had silenced him with either  
a look or by quietly insisting that their friendship was worthless if she had to lie to protect it, and that  
everything would be fine. Every time he'd returned sullenly to pretending to work, but his mind had  
been consumed with the singular thought that this was the last time he'd ever see her, and he'd gotten  
nothing done.

He pulled to the side of the road outside of her drive, but she insisted that he drop her off at the door.  
He reluctantly drove the rest of the way and then shut the car off. The blinds twitched, and Gold turned  
suddenly to Belle, his eyes searching hers.

"You don't have to do this." He pleaded. "You don't have to get in trouble over me."

"It's too late now," Belle said, nodding towards one of the windows. Gold looked over to see the blinds  
snap shut.

"How will I know that everything is okay?" He asked. "Should I wait here?"

She patted him on the knee got out of his car, leaning down to smile at him. "It'll be fine, Gold. Stop  
worrying."

He dug in his pocket for his wallet and handed her one of his cards. "My phone number is on here." He  
said, and she rolled her eyes. He grabbed her wrist, putting the card in her palm and then closing her  
hand over it. "Call me if anything happens."

"Gold." She said, exasperated. "Nothing is going to happen." She shoved his card in her pocket and went  
to the door, waving at him before going inside. He waited there for a minute before hesitantly driving  
away.

He was on pins and needles driving home, and he spent the first twenty minutes there alternating  
between pacing and quadruple checking his phone to make sure that it was on and that he hadn't  
missed any calls. Finally, at nine, he gave up and made a phone call.

"Sheriff's office," Came Emma's bored drawl.

"Emma," He said, trying to sound friendly. "I need a favor."

He was pacing down in his shop when Emma pulled up twenty minutes later, and he hurriedly let her in.

"Well?" He asked nervously.

"She's fine." She responded, and she seemed torn between amusement and irritation. "They were  
having dinner. I had to think fast to come up with an excuse to go knocking on their door." She  
mumbled.

"Had she talked to him yet?" He asked quickly, and Emma rolled her eyes at him.

"You think I pulled her aside and asked her, "Hey, your weird secret tryst wants to know if you told your  
fiancé that you cheated on him yet?"" She asked. "I'm not your errand girl, Gold."

"She's not—we didn't—"

"Whatever, Gold." Emma said dismissively. "I can see the signs." She softened at his panicked look, and  
patted him on the shoulder. "She seemed fine. Really."

"Truly?"

"Yes."

He sighed in relief. "Thank you, Sheriff." He reached for his wallet and she just shook her head and  
turned to leave.

"Keep your money. I don't take bribes. Just don't take time out of my busy day again, okay?"

He let her go without another word and went upstairs, helping himself to a generous drink from his  
never-used liquor cabinet on his way to bed. It softened the edges so deliciously that he got up and  
helped himself to another.

Belle was fine. He'd checked up on her, and she was fine. She'd have called him if there was an issue.

He needed to learn to trust her judgment.

He snapped awake in the middle of the night, disoriented, and lay there for a long moment listening to  
the pounding rain outside before he discerned the reason for his sudden wakefulness. He stumbled to  
the bathroom, and after taking care of one pressing urge, rubbed his face and went into the kitchen for  
a glass of water. He had a headache from the alcohol that he was unaccustomed to drinking, and his  
mouth felt like a desert. He gulped down several cold glasses and an asprin and then shuffled back to  
bed, burrowing under the sheets and the pile of clothes that still resided over them and into bed. He  
stifled a curse when his bare belly pressed against something cold and metallic.

He reached down and pulled the offending object out of bed, swiping at the screen and paling. It hadn't  
been his thirst that had woken him so abruptly.

He had six missed calls, and they were all from a single, unknown number.

"Belle." He whispered.

* * *

**Whew, that was a long chapter. Thanks for the read, and for the reviews/follows/favorites. It means so much to see that people like the story enough to share that enjoyment with me. More to come!**


	6. Chapter 6

He flew out of bed, redialing the number, but there was no response.

"Fuck," He growled over and over, pulling on a pair of pants and nearly falling down the stairs in his haste. He threw open the door to his shop and was immediately drenched by the gusting rain that had been so comforting from his bed moments before.

He snarled and fought his way through the wind and wet to his car, ignoring the immediate puddle he made on his leather seats. He ground the car into gear and fishtailed his way out onto the main road, his phone up to his ear again. It rang twice before a sleepy voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Emma." He growled, the rain making a cacophonous sound against his car, his foot driving the gas pedal onto the floor as he turned away from the main drag of the town and onto the forest road that led to the town line. "Something is wrong."

"Gold, it's four fifteen in the morn—"

"Shut up and listen!" He roared. "Belle is in trouble!"

"Gold, I'm sure she's fine—"

"Get in your damn cruiser and do your job." He snarled. Something beeped in his ear and he looked at the phone. He had an incoming call.

He immediately hung up on Emma.

"Hello?" He shouted. "Belle?"

"Gold!" The sound of her voice broke his heart. He could hear the rain on the other side of the phone.

"Belle, where are you?"

"Outside your shop," She cried. "I left your key—"

"I'm on my way." He said, slamming on his breaks and spinning wildly around on the quiet forest road.

He screamed into the parking space in front of his shop a minute later, flying out of his car. Belle was pressed against the door under the small awning to shield herself from the rain, and he ran to her, registering for the first time that his breath came from his lips in a puff of cold vapor.

"Shit, Belle, are you okay?" He demanded, fumbling with his keys with numb fingers. They slipped from his frozen fingers and she made a little sound somewhere between a whimper and a chattering of teeth and, losing all vestiges of rational thought at the noise, he kicked the door in and swept her inside.

"What happened?" He demanded, ushering her upstairs.

"F-Fight," She chattered, and he grabbed her by the waist and carried her up the stairs in his arms. She buried her face in his neck and he swallowed a curse. She was freezing.

"Did he hurt you?" He snarled, moving to put her down once they were upstairs, but she clung to his neck before raggedly inhaling, shaking her head and shattering his heart with a quiet, broken sob.

"Oh Belle," He whispered, tightening his grip on her and bringing her to his couch. He tried to set her down but she refused to let him go, so he sat down with her on his lap and wrapped his arms around her. He tried to make his voice soothing around the rage that was choking him. "Shh, now. You're safe."

He rested his cheek on her dripping hair and rubbed her back gently until her sobs turned to quiet little sniffles.

"I was okay." She whispered. "I thought we were okay. But then Richard woke me up and he was yelling, he was so angry…I was so scared. I didn't know where else to turn."

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm so sorry. I thought you were okay. I fell asleep. I shouldn't have fallen asleep-"

"I'm cold." She whimpered suddenly.

He nearly fell over himself in his haste to get her warm clothes, diving into his drawers and throwing things aside until he found a warm looking pair of sweatpants he'd never seen before and a thick sweater. He offered them to her hopefully and showed her the bathroom. She emerged a minute later, looking like more like a lost waif than his courageous Belle in his unflattering clothes. Her teeth still chattered.

He swept her up in his arms and brought her to his bed, disliking the way she trembled against him. He tucked her in and moved to stand, but found her hands tangled in the t-shirt he'd hastily thrown on before he'd run outside looking for her.

"Please don't go." She pleaded, and he wondered suddenly if her trembling was from the cold or if she was going into shock.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart." He promised.

"Please." She whispered, and he immediately understood what she wanted, but the gentleman in him resisted.

"I'm all wet, Belle." He murmured, and squeezed her hand.

"Gold," She begged, and in that moment she could have been asking him to cut out his own heart and he'd have complied.

He tugged off his shirt and pants and crawled into bed with her, immediately regretting the decision to not put on warm clothes when her icy fingers and toes pressed desperately against his chest and feet. He bit his cheek but wrapped his arms around her, surrounding her in his warmth.

"Shh." He whispered, nuzzling her hair. "It's okay. I'm here."

He held her until her trembling stopped, and when her breathing became slow and deep, he chanced a peek at her face, relieved that she'd finally fallen asleep with her head on his pillow, her brown hair over her face. He gently brushed back the strands and caressed her face, wiping the last remnants of her tears away.

He tried to gently untangle himself from her, certain she would not be pleased with him or herself in the morning if she woke up to find herself in bed with him in such a state of undress. He managed to unwrap her from him enough to slip on a pair of dry pants over his wet boxers, suddenly grateful to have left his laundry over the sheets, before giving up on getting out of bed. The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky behind his blinds when he closed his eyes, listening to the rain and Belle's quiet, steady breathing until he drifted off to an exhausted sleep.

It was the lack of noise that startled him awake hours later, and he jerked upright, wild eyed. Belle wasn't in his bed, and he wondered for a confused moment if he'd dreamt the whole thing. He jumped out of bed and hurried into his living room, where he found Belle curled up on his couch looking out the window at a grey morning, a mug of tea in her small hands. Her eyes were distant.

"Hey." He said quietly, approaching her as if afraid to frighten her.

She glanced over at him and he saw that, while her cheeks were dry, her eyes were red and puffy, and she returned her eyes to the world outside his window before she spoke. Her voice was quiet and rough.

"Hi."

"Are you okay?" He asked apprehensively, standing a few feet from her, unsure.

She took a sip of her tea. A muscle in her jaw twitched.

"I've had better mornings."

"What happened last night?"

She shook her head.

"Belle, if I need to make some calls…If he hurt you in any way.."

"No." She replied curtly, and he found himself watching her, helpless.

"What can I do?" He asked. "Please, Belle, let me help. What happened?"

She closed her eyes slowly and leaned her head against the window, her voice haunting him with the depth of her sorrow.

"We got into an argument when I told him what happened. He tried to tell me I couldn't see you again, and I told him that no one makes those kinds of decisions for me. In the end, I left, and he told me I wasn't welcome back."

"Oh, Belle." He whispered, wanting to gather her in his arms again. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

She shook her head, opening her mouth to speak. Her lower lip trembled and she was in his arms again before the first little sob escaped her lips. She buried her face in the crook where his neck met his shoulder, and is broke his heart to feel her hot tears touch his skin. Her crying was different today, thicker, more of hurt than of shock, and he squeezed her tightly against him, trying to take the pain away.

"What am I going to do?" She asked him, bereft in her sorrow. "Where am I going to go?"

His words came without thought.

"Don't worry about that right now." He mumbled fiercely, leaning back and brushing the tears from her face. "Don't worry about anything. I've got you. You're safe. You're welcome here as long as you want to stay."

They stayed that way for a long while, with Belle curled up in his lap, her face buried in his neck, until her sniffles disappeared once more. He stroked her back in a gentle, reassuring rhythm until he felt her relax against him, and then he leaned back and brushed her tears away, giving her a little smile.

"Better?" He asked, and she nodded; the tiniest bobbing of her head. He reached over and retrieved her mug from the table beside the couch and offered it to her, but she took a sip and grimaced.

"Cold." She murmured, and he gently shifted her onto the couch.

"I'll go warm it up." He said kindly.

"Do you have anything stronger?" She called with her broken little voice when he was halfway to the kitchen.

He dumped her tea and made a fresh pot, adding a liberal amount of whiskey to both their cups before he returned and offered one to her. They sat in silence for a few long minutes, sipping their drinks, lost in thought. Belle eventually drained her cup and placed it gently on the coffee table. She leaned against him and closed her eyes. Exhaustion seemed to have finally caught up with her yet again.

"Tired?" He asked. She nodded, and he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bed again.

"You know, if you had just stayed in bed, you wouldn't be tired." He teased gently.

"Couldn't." She mumbled tiredly.

"Why not?" He asked, fearing the worst.

"Snoring too loud." She grumbled, and he looked down to see a little smile on her face. He snorted.

"I do not snore." He returned her gently to his bed and turned to go to the couch.

"Don't go," She mumbled pleadingly.

"But I snore," He teased, unable to hide a smile. She reached up and hooked her fingers in one of his belt loops, the only part of him she could get a grasp on, and tugged.

"Don't be an ass." She grumbled, and he was more than happy to comply. He crawled in carefully and wrapped an arm around her when she pressed her cheek against his bare chest.

"I wasn't aware I was being one," He mumbled. But she was already asleep.

* * *

He drifted back into consciousness mid-afternoon, too warm, and blearily opened his eyes. Belle had wrapped herself around him like a vine. Her face was buried in the pillow next to his, hiding her eyes from the light steaming through his window, and her legs were wrapped around one of his shins. One of her hands was draped over his chest, pale skin against his tan, and her fingers were splayed out as if, in sleep, she'd been afraid of him leaving and had tried to keep him there.

They laid that way for a long time, and he gently traced her hand with one of his rough fingers absently, from nail to wrist, finally resting his hand on his chest next to hers so their fingertips touched.

He watched as her fingers hesitantly moved, barely an inch, to rest between each of his so their first knuckles touched, and then turned his head to see her watching him with tired eyes.

"Good morning." He whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would shatter the peacefulness of their situation.

"Morning." She whispered.

He squeezed her fingertips gently with his own, and that made her smile. He shyly entwined their fingers the rest of the way, and she lightly squeezed his hand.

"How did you sleep?" He asked quietly.

She buried her face in his pillow in response and he chuckled softly. She unwrapped her legs from his after a moment and stretched them out before relaxing again, slowly rolling away from him and onto her back while she tried to blink sleep from her eyes. He did his best to not be disappointed with her wakefulness, and began to move his hand from hers so she could sit up, but she squeezed his fingers and he relented, content to just watch her.

"What time is it?" She rasped, running her free hand through her long hair.

"Dunno," He murmured, and stretched out his own legs, which were cramped from conforming to the whims of her cold toes all morning. He looked over to see a pained look on her face as she looked up at the ceiling, her eyes distant, and he nudged her gently with his shoulder.

"Hey," He said quietly, upset that she had barely woken up and was already hurting. "You don't need to think about anything right now, okay?"

She nodded absently, her lower lip trembling again, and he switched tactics. He put a little bit of teasing into his voice.

"Okay, I lied," He said mischievously, and it took all of his willpower to not break at the sight of her wide, teary eyes. "You need to worry about one thing."

"What?" She asked, concern in her voice.

"I need you to make a choice," He said seriously, and he touched her nose gently with his finger. "Right now."

"What?" She repeated, and her eyes were wide.

"Breakfast, because we just woke up, or lunch?"

She regarded him for a long moment, aghast, before he was rewarded with a little giggle.

"Breakfast." She replied after a moment, and a little of the hurt in her eyes was replaced by slyness. "But only if you do dishes."

He snorted.

"Fine."

"And only if I can shower first." She added.

"You are absolutely unbelievable." He muttered, shaking his head and laughing.

* * *

He slipped his phone into his pocket and began breakfast, waiting until she was in the shower to check his messages.

There were quite a few from Emma, and he only listened to the first few seconds of each voicemail, deleting them as he idly flipped pancakes. She was furious with him, but as the messages progressed he could tell that she'd finally gotten out of bed and had gone to check his claims. The last few evolved into her frantically telling him she couldn't find Belle, to being furious all over again because she'd guessed correctly from his silence that he'd probably found her first or, she pointed out, he was dead, which saved her the trouble of killing him. The last message was her letting him know she'd stop by later that day to see if Belle wanted to press charges, and he checked the time. She'd called only a few hours before.

"We may have company," Gold said conversationally when Belle emerged from his bathroom a few minutes later, dressed in a pair of his jeans and a blue v-neck shirt. He slid a few pieces of bacon onto her plate and turned the stove off.

"Who?" She asked nervously.

"Sheriff Swan." He responded, picking up their plates and leading her to the kitchen table.

"Why?" She seemed alarmed.

"I may have dragged her out of bed when I couldn't find you last night," He replied sheepishly. "And I may have also forgotten to call her and let her know you were safe."

Belle shook her head. "So that's why she came by yesterday." She murmured.

"Uhm," He was suddenly uncomfortable.

He glanced up to see her watching him.

"That may have been unrelated." He hedged.

"You called her _twice?"_ She gaped at him, her voice scolding. "Gold!"

"You could have been dead!" He shouted, chastened. "I couldn't just do nothing!"

"You are completely, utterly unbelievable." She growled, poking at a pancake with her fork.

"I thought I was an ass," He corrected.

"You're unbelievable in how much of an ass you are." She snapped, shaking her head.

"Are you angry with me?" He asked, shocked.

She hesitated, and the tension and humor between them was sucked away in an instant at the quiet tone she switched to.

"No."

They ate their food in silence, interrupted only when he heard his shop door open downstairs. Belle looked alarmed, but Gold growled and pushed his chair back.

"If that damn woman doesn't stop just letting herself in.."

"Maybe you should lock the door." Belle called after him as he went to the door to the stairs to let her in. "I think that's what most shops do at the end of the night."

Gold rolled his eyes and had almost reached the door before Emma burst in, gun drawn. They stared at each other in alarm before Emma dragged her eyes across the room, visibly relaxing when she saw Belle. Gold glanced over his shoulder to see that she had frozen with a bit of bacon halfway up to her mouth and was watching Emma, wide-eyed.

"God damnit, Gold." Emma snarled, holstering her gun and advancing on him murderously. "You couldn't give me _one call_ to let me know she was okay?!" She shoved him and he stumbled back into the wall of his entryway, shocked. "I've been all over town looking for her!"

"Please!" Belle cried, standing quickly and wiggling her way between the two of them. She put her hands out placatingly towards Emma. "It's my fault. Don't blame him."

"Unless you broke his phone, it's his fault." Emma snarled.

"Sheriff." Gold snapped, trying to silently command Emma to calm down lest she upset Belle again. "This isn't the time. I'm sorry I didn't call, but Belle has been safely here with me since late last night. She's fine. There is nothing here that the law needs to be involved in."

Emma looked both of them in the eye for a moment before slowly responding.

"Richard Blanc is furious. He wants Belle to come home, now."

Belle tensed, and Gold was blinded by his rage and his need to protect her.

"She isn't going anywhere near him."

"Gold." Belle said softly.

"He's right." Emma said, speaking to Belle now. "You don't have to go home if you don't want to. There is no legal way for him to make you come back."

"No," Belle responded quietly, shifting gently out of Gold's arms. "But I think that maybe I should."

"You're going back to him?" He whispered, before he could stop himself. He couldn't keep the hurt from his voice.

"I can't just disappear." She replied quietly. "I have to talk to him, Gold."

"Oh."

"I owe him that much." She added.

Gold watched her warily, feeling torn.

"Then I'm coming with."

"I think you should stay here." She said, and he felt as if she'd punched him. He gawked at her, unable to find words, until Emma cleared her throat.

"When do you want to go?" Emma asked.

"Now is fine," Belle murmured, and Gold was unable to do more than watch her, his mouth hanging open slightly. She turned and looked at him, reaching out and gently squeezing his hand. "Wish me luck?" She asked quietly.

He stared at her, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Good luck."

"I'll drive you." Emma said, wrapping an arm around Belle's shoulders and leading her down the stairs. She glanced back at Gold apologetically, and he wandered over to his window when they left to watch them drive away.

He felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest.

He sat himself gingerly on the couch and ran his fingers through his hair, feeling like a fool.

Of course she'd come running to him last night. It was his fault she was in this mess. Where else would she have gone?

He felt like a complete idiot at how pleased he'd been to wake up to her in his bed, and realized that it was because it had been more than he'd ever had from her in the old world. As much as he'd loved her, as much as he'd missed her for the last thirty years, he'd gotten only a single kiss from his sweet Belle before he'd so brutally thrown her out of his life.

He shook his head. It wasn't her fault; she didn't remember him. She owed him nothing. It shouldn't bother him that this sassy young woman that now inhabited Belle's skin wanted to return to her fiancé. She wasn't _his_ Belle, and hoping she'd stay had only prolonged him denying the truth about that. True love's kiss hadn't restored her memories.

But damnit, he'd offered her sanctuary; a home, a life away from whatever it was Gaston had done to frighten her so much, and she'd walked out of his doors as if he'd casually invited her to tea.

The arguments he made against his broken heart piled up in his mind, but they didn't make him feel any better.

* * *

He spent the remaining hours of the day showering and cleaning his home, to give his hands something to do. He folded the clothes that had been piled on his bed for too long, lingering for a moment over Belle's side of the bed before he tucked in the covers and mentally urged himself to stop being such an idiot.

He found her wet clothes hanging up in his bathroom, making him pause again, and he gathered them up with his own and threw them into the laundry. He called for a new door to be installed in his shop while he waited for the wash to finish and, once it beeped, he threw it into the dryer and sprawled out on his couch and closed his eyes for just a moment, lulled into an uneasy peace by the rhythmic sound of the machine.

He instantly awoke when someone touched his face in the darkness, and he jerked away from the sensation, snarling. A gentle hand pushed his chest to keep him down.

"Woah. Easy, Gold."

He reached his hand out and grabbed hold of a delicate wrist that didn't resist his touch.

"Belle?" He croaked, disoriented, reaching for the lamp on the table beside him. He turned it on and she squinted at him, both blinded momentarily by the sudden light.

"Yeah." She responded, sounding exhausted, but she smiled at him. She'd changed into her own clothes again; a purple turtleneck and a pair of black pants. "It's me."

"You came back?" He asked, confused.

She looked suddenly as if he'd struck her.

"I thought—Am I imposing?" She asked, her eyes wide.

He gawked at her. "But you went back to Richard."

She nodded. "Yes. To talk."

"What happened?" He asked, but she looked away and sighed.

"I don't want to talk about it. Suffice to say things didn't work out."

"I thought you left to go back to him." He whispered, feeling his heart wrench in strange ways.

"No." She shook her head and moved to stand. "I'm sorry. This was stupid. I shouldn't have just assumed.."

He grabbed her by the wrist to stop her, flying to his feet.

"Don't go." He pleaded with her. "Please stay."

"I don't want to impose."

"It's not an imposition. You're always welcome here."

She gave him a little smile.

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure, Belle. Please."

She searched his face carefully for a moment before she nodded, and he rubbed his face, trying to hide the look of naked relief that overtook him.

"What time is it?" He asked.

"Just before two." She replied, suddenly hesitant, and her stomach rumbled audibly. He couldn't help but laugh.

"Hungry?" He asked. She blushed.

"It's two in the morning," She mumbled in response.

"Yeah," He said. "And we woke up in the middle of the afternoon. Don't worry about the time, dearie. Let me make you something to eat."

He ignored her protests and went into the kitchen, fishing through his cabinets. He realized suddenly he had no idea what she liked and disliked to eat.

"You don't need to dote on me." Came her quiet complaint behind him, and he turned to look at her in surprise.

"I'm not doting on you." He responded. "I'm just making you something to eat."

"If I'm going to stay here, Gold, I don't want you to treat me like I'm some sort of special guest." She reached for the can of soup he was holding, and he moved it away from her. "Let me help."

"No." He replied petulantly.

She raised her eyebrows at him slowly, and he realized he'd just stepped into a trap.

"Excuse me?" She asked, too quietly.

"It's not a big deal, Belle." He complained. "You _are_ a guest."

"I'm capable of heating up a can of soup, Gold."

"No." He repeated. He just wanted to do this one thing for her, damnit. She looked exhausted.

She put her hands on the counter on either side of him, and he involuntarily avoided her scorching eyes.

"Give me the soup, Gold." She hissed.

He slowly looked up and met her eyes, giving her a slow, challenging smile. He bared his teeth at her and raised the can above his head, wiggling it.

"Take it from me."

The words had barely left his lips before she threw herself at him and climbed nearly halfway up his body after the can, grabbing hold of it. He made a disbelieving grunt, nearly collapsing against the counter with surprise at suddenly bearing her weight, and the can tumbled from their hands and hit the floor, bouncing away with a clatter.

They looked at each other for a moment before diving after it, and the battle was on.

Five minutes later they were both on the ground in the middle of his living room, panting. Belle was curled up, facing away from him, cradling the dented can to her chest.

"It's mine!" She kept chanting victoriously over and over, as if to prove the truth of her words, and he was glad he had no neighbors. They'd been screaming curses at one another during the entirety of their skirmish. He rested his head back against the wooden floor.

"I concede the soup to you, my lady." He panted. "And that's the last time I ever try to do you a favor as bold as microwaving your something for you to eat."

"Better be," She growled, stumbling to her feet with the can held tightly in her arms. She leaned down and helped him stand, and he flinched when she grabbed his wrist. He could feel a bruise forming there, where she'd elbowed him particularly brutally after he'd grabbed the can from her and dared to laugh about it.

He sullenly dragged a chair into the kitchen and watched her heat up her soup. She smirked at him.

"Jealous?" She crooned.

"I've never had to fight for the use of my microwave," He grumbled. "You're going to be trouble, French."

She pulled out the steaming bowl and, after glancing around uselessly for a spoon, raised the bowl to her lips and took a sip.

"Stop smirking." He complained. "You'll get soup all over yourself."

"Is that how you keep your suits so clean?" She asked sweetly. "With that perpetual pout?"

He glared at her in response, and she drank her soup in smug peace for a few minutes. His mood slowly darkened, and he found himself watching her searchingly.

"What happened?" He asked quietly, and she stiffened, looking away from him.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Please, Belle. Two days ago you were sure he was going to forgive you, and now you're here in my home asking for a place to stay while still wearing that damned ring. I don't know what to think. What's going on?"

Belle sighed, and he glanced up at her to see a distant, sad look in her eyes. She put down the soup and began fidgeting with the ring.

"He didn't forgive me." She whispered. "There isn't much more to tell."

"But you were okay at first." He said. "Emma said you two were having dinner when she stopped by."

"We _were_ okay." She told him. "Because I hadn't told him the whole story yet. When she'd stopped by, you were, in his eyes, an asshole who had broken into the house, but he understood that you hadn't hurt me. I told him about standing up to Regina, who he doesn't care for, and how you told her to stay away from us."

"I see." He replied, and she shifted uncomfortably against the counter before continuing.

"I didn't tell him about the kiss until that night." She murmured. "I couldn't find the right time—"

"There usually isn't for that sort of thing." He said dryly.

"—But I laid in bed half the night worrying about it. I couldn't sleep. My fidgeting finally woke him up, and he was already frustrated with me over that, so I figured that was as good of a time as any. He started yelling, and told me to get out. I didn't know where to go, so I called you, but you didn't answer. So I just started walking."

He sighed, still feeling guilty about falling asleep, and she shot him an apologetic look.

"And today?" He prompted. "You were gone for a long time."

"I had Emma drop me off." She said, and he immediately tensed. "I didn't want her to have to be there for that. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. And I thought Richard was going to be civil."

"You _thought?" _ He asked, starting to sit up from his chair. "Belle—" She crossed the kitchen and pressed down on his shoulder, making him stay down.

"Shush, Gold. Do you want to hear the story, or not?"

He settled back in, feeling murderous.

"We talked for a long time. He wanted me to stay, and at first I was willing to consider it. This was all my fault, after all, and I couldn't blame him for being understandably upset."

Gold felt a twinge of hurt, but nodded.

"I told him that I needed some time apart. To get my head on straight, because I didn't want to come crawling back because I had to." She mumbled. "He wasn't okay with that."

"Did you tell him you were coming back here?" He asked. She shook her head.

"No, and if he had forgiven me, I was going to get a room at Grannys, or beg to stay with my father. But he didn't want me to leave. He tried to keep me there." She sighed.

"Did he hurt you?" Gold asked, his voice full of quiet malevolence.

"He grabbed me. Tried to lock me in our room." She said, and she showed him the inside of her arm, where four finger-sized marks were visible.

"He hurt you." He whispered, and Belle nudged him roughly to knock him out of his murderous thoughts.

"Which is why I immediately called Emma when he locked me in the bedroom, and she seemed more than happy to show up, guns blazing, to something other than one of your errands." She explained. "I was at the Sheriff's office filling out paper work for a restraining order and pressing charges until about an hour ago."

"She didn't call me." He growled.

"Because I asked her not to. You weren't involved, Gold. At this point it's all over, and I just want to come here and forget about it. What's done is done. Please, for me, just let this drop. I've handled it."

She put the bowl in his sink, giving him a searching look, and after a moment he sighed heavily and looked away.

"For you. But if he ever comes near you again, Belle, I'll kill him."

"Thank you." She murmured, watching him carefully for a moment before adding,

"Nothing to say? Did I take all the fight out of you over the can of soup?"

He grunted. "I'm trying to be forgiving for you. It's one of the things you were always pestering me about, in our past lives. Besides, you have clearly had more run-ins today than I have. You're readier for a fight than I am."

She responded with a wide yawn, trying to hide it politely by her hand.

"And now you're going to fight me for the bed, I take it." He complained, meaning it as a joke, but something in the air changed between them once the words had left his lips. They looked at one another before glancing away in different directions.

"It was a joke," He mumbled, and he headed past her towards the couch. "Of course you get the bed."

"Gold." She said, reaching out and grasping his wrist gently to stop him.

He turned to look at her, surprised to see her looking uncomfortable.

"Yes?" He asked. She squirmed.

"You don't need to do that. Your leg…"

"I don't mind, Belle, really. The couch has actually been good for it. Promise."

He offered her his elbow and they walked companionably through the kitchen to the living room, where a yellow duffel bag was laying abandoned.

"What's this?" He asked, nudging it with his foot.

"Travel bag." She murmured, looking embarrassed.

"You came prepared."

"I was hoping you'd let me stay, but I knew I couldn't go back after Richard and I talked, so I packed a bag until I can go and get my things. Do you promise I'm not imposing?" She asked suddenly.

"Of course." He responded. "Make yourself at home."

"Thank you." She murmured, giving him a smile that warmed his heart.

He squeezed her hand before letting it go. "I'll see you in the morning, Belle."

He peeled off his suit jacket, tie, and button-up shirt when Belle quietly closed the door to his room and settled in on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

Belle had come back. She'd left Richard, if he understood her correctly. She was staying with him. She was in his bed. She was safe.

After a few minutes the light under the door in his bedroom shut off, and he glanced at the clock on the wall before he closed his eyes.

He hoped the morning would come quickly. She was only in the other room, but he already missed her.

* * *

The feel of the couch shifting roused him from sleep a short while later, and he blearily opened an eye, squinting through the hazy yellow light coming from the streetlight outside the window.

He could just make out her form curled up at the foot of the couch, trembling, and he was instantly awake. When he sat up and jerked her head up to look at him, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, looking horrified. "I thought you were asleep."

He reached out and touched her cheek gently. Her haunted expression frightened him.

"Belle, what's wrong?"

"It's stupid." She said quietly. Her wide, frightened eyes said otherwise.

"Nothing is stupid with you, Belle."

"I had a nightmare. About R-Richard." She murmured. "I just-I just thought that if I came out here, reminded myself you were here, that I was safe, that-"

He moved closer and enveloped her in his arms, tucking her head against his chest and resting his cheek on her hair. She wrapped her arms around him, trembling from head to foot, and he gently caressed her back in lazy circles until she gradually relaxed against him. When he leaned back to look at her, her head lulled against his shoulder, her breathing deep and slow.

He smiled, gathering her in his arms and, after some effort, stood and carried her back into his bedroom. He gently laid her down, his knee protesting as he did so, but the arms she'd wrapped around his neck refused to let him go. After trying unsuccessfully to untangle her from him and achieving nothing but a whimpered plea he gave up and climbed in beside her. He was surprised when she immediately attached herself desperately to him again, wrapping an arm around waist and her legs around his thigh, her face pressed against his shoulder as if trying to hide from what frightened her.

He pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead and brushed her hair back with his free hand, trying to soothe her, and she relaxed marginally against him. He patiently continued his ministrations until her breathing evened out, her body relaxed but her face twisted, haunted, and he soothed himself to sleep by thinking up several dozen ways that he could make Gaston quietly disappear for ever making that expression cross Belle's lovely face.

* * *

**Thanks for the read! Don't forget to review/favorite/follow if you're enjoying the story.**


	7. Chapter 7

Belle was still clinging to him when his phone alarm quietly vibrated on the bedside table too few hours later, and he snapped his hand out to shut it off before it could wake her. He blinked open his eyes, disliking the bright sunlight that was streaming between the slats of his blinds, and checked the schedule on his phone.

He had been putting things off since he'd met her; abandoning the deal to purchase the property downtown, ignoring the repairs on the grocery store and a large handful of other things. His entire schedule for the day was flashing red at his tired eyes, mocking him.

All he wanted to do was stay in bed with this lovely woman wrapped around him but he knew as soon as she awoke she'd recoil politely from him, back to friendliness. The daylight seemed to banish both her demons and her desire to have him close. He only warmed her bed and kept the nightmares at bay, and he was smart enough to know the difference between her wanting him between the sheets and her _wanting _him between the sheets, as much as he daydreamed otherwise. She hadn't made a single indication that he was more than a talisman to her; a method of keeping what frightened her at bay, and he realized with terrible clarity that when her nightmares ebbed she'd likely stop coming to him. It made his heart twist painfully in his chest to think of resuming a normal night's sleep schedule without her.

His thoughts kept him lying in bed for another ten minutes watching her sleep peacefully, trailing her hair between his fingers with her scent fogging his brain. It wasn't until she rolled onto her back with a tired sigh that he finally forced himself to get up and begin his day.

He'd shifted his way nearly out of the bed before the hand Belle had draped across his chest twitched, and he looked over to see her groggy blue eyes watching him from underneath her lashes.

"Gold?" She asked tiredly.

"Go back to bed," He whispered encouragingly, but she rubbed her eyes and blinked up at him.

"Where are you going?" She asked. Her voice rose half an octave in panic.

"Work." He said, dropping to his knees beside the bed and caressing her face gently, taking advantage of her half-asleep state to be affectionate. "I'm going to be out most of the day."

"Oh." She murmured, sounding disheartened, and he tugged the sheets back up around her shoulder.

"Go back to bed, Belle." He said, and she watched him stand with lidded eyes before speaking again.

"Can I do anything for you while you're gone?" She asked, stifling a yawn. He chuckled.

"Today, Belle, you just worry about you. Okay?"

She nodded tiredly, burrowing back into the downy softness of his comforter like a contented cat, and in that moment he'd have given anything in the world to hear her to ask him to stay.

* * *

It was late that evening when he finally pulled his car back in front of the shop. He was tired and frustrated and ready for the day to be over. He'd been chasing people down all day, managing to set up another walkthrough for a few weeks out with the man who was selling the property downtown, but only after a particularly long and arduous phone conversation. The man had guts to stand up to him, Gold gave him that. But h relished the idea of stripping all remnants of the man's business from within the walls once he'd purchased the property, removing all traces that he'd ever existed.

He'd also tracked down Greg in the store and, after examining the repairs and putting the paperwork in his briefcase, he'd cornered the man and quietly reminded him that, while Belle may have thought he was giving an idle threat when he'd asked him why he kept him around, she wasn't here and he wouldn't hesitate to replace him if he made another mistake. The man had trembled, nodding placatingly a humorous number of times before Gold was finally satisfied and let him go. Then, he'd gone to the hardware shop he owned on the main strip of town to terrorize the young woman that had sold him those hideous drapes, just for good measure.

It had been a successful day, but he was ready to unwind. It had warmed his cold heart all day to think of Belle safe in his home. He hoped she'd managed all alone, wondering idly if she'd even gotten out of bed.

He quietly closed his car, locating the key for his shop by touch on the keyring. He slid it into its home and turned the lock, confused when it didn't turn.

He pulled out the key and, after confirming visually it was the correct one, tried again with the same result. He analyzed the key in the yellowed light but it revealed no new information.

"What the hell?" He growled to himself, glancing up at one of the windows of his living room on the floor above. The lights were on. Belle was upstairs, warm and comfortable. An alarming prospect crossed his mind, and it was so outlandish that he stifled a panicked little giggle over it. Had she changed the locks on him?

He tried a different key, then the rest on the keychain for good measure but none of them worked. He tried jiggling the handle, but the door was firmly locked.

A couple passed behind him on the sidewalk, giving him curious looks. He did his best to not look flustered, but as soon as he was out of their eyesight he grabbed the handle and viciously turned it, to no avail.

He was standing there glaring at it when it quietly clicked open and Belle poked her head out. He noticed immediately she'd changed into a slimming, strapless yellow dress that ended mid-thigh. Had he not been so frustrated it would have done wonders for his imagination, but instead he just gawked at Belle as if she'd just performed magic in front of him.

"Hey!" She said cheerfully, stepping out into the cool night air to give him a hug, leaning back when he reciprocated with a halfhearted, one-armed squeeze. "Something wrong?"

"Did you change the locks on me?" He asked before he could think better of it, not sure what to think about that particular detail. "My keys don't work."

Belle looked surprised.

"Someone came by and replaced them earlier. They wanted to wait for you. Said you'd made an appointment, but you weren't here and they waited for a long time, so I told them that I was capable of watching locks get replaced. They left a pair of keys upstairs. Didn't you get my message?"

He shook his head, grinding his teeth to keep from letting his frustration at her words show.

"I see." He forced out.

"What's wrong?" She repeated, looking confused.

"I'm not used to people taking the initiative." He answered, because it was nicer than telling her the truth; that he was meticulously detail-oriented and that she'd just stepped on his toes. "I typically like to be around for things like these, so I don't stand outside my own home looking like a fool for ten minutes."

She looked him in the eye and after cocking her hip replied simply, "Then maybe you should try to remember the appointments you set."

He stared at her, shocked at her tone. His reply came out icily. "I had a busy day. My business has suffered since you came into my life. I've made a lot of messes."

"Then you're welcome for helping you clean up this one." She said, unbothered, patting his stunned cheek before going back inside. "Now get in here, it's cold outside."

* * *

He followed her obediently up the stairs, frustrated and awed that he'd just lost yet another battle of wills with her. He was angry about the locks, but she had a point and now that he was sure she hadn't changed them to keep him out, he could be pleased with her for keeping them and his possessions safe from anyone brave enough to try and break in. It had been dumb luck that had kept them safe since he'd kicked the door in in his haste to get Belle inside two nights before and he'd been stupid to forget the appointment. By the time they'd ascended the stairs he'd forgiven her, but was too proud to apologize.

Belle didn't seem to be looking for his apologies however, and her smugness seemed proof enough that she wasn't interested in him bringing the subject back up.

"I made dinner." She said conversationally when they reached the top of the stairs. He was about to reply when she opened the door to his home and he stepped inside slowly, stunned at the sight.

"Did you clean?" He asked, looking around. The house didn't even _smell_ like his anymore; it was all clean laundry and fresh air and, he noted, the slightest hint of Belle. The blanket he'd abandoned on the floor was folded neatly over the back of the couch; his wooden floors and furniture glimmered with a shine that he honestly hadn't been aware that they were capable of, and his kitchen had been re-organized. There were two plates of steaming food on the kitchen table. He noted with awe that she'd even cleaned the dishes she'd cooked with.

"Well, magic didn't clean this place." She replied humorously. His lip twitched, and he wondered if she realized the extent of her joke. He wandered silently into the laundry room, which was free of his usual pile of clothes, and then drifted into the now-immaculate bathroom, ending the tour in his bedroom. She'd even made the bed and, by the unrumpled look of the sheets, she'd washed those too.

"Do you like it?" She asked, her soft voice at his elbow. He turned to see her watching him nervously. Gold hadn't even noticed her following him, but her hands were fidgeting and he realized she had taken his continued silence as disdain.

He had to clear his throat before he could speak. He'd spent the day wondering if she was going to get out of bed, and it appeared that she'd done nothing but work since he'd gone.

"It's—you-you didn't have to do this." He stammered, trying and failing miserably at finding the complement he was looking for.

"I know that." She said, as if it were obvious. She still seemed nervous, despite the hope that glimmered behind her eyes. She smiled. "I wanted to."

He reached out and covered her hands with his own to stop her nervous fidgeting, waiting until he had her full attention to smile at her. "It's lovely, Belle. I don't think this old place has ever been so clean. Thank you. Truly."

"Of course." She replied, perking up and giving him a dazzling smile before she tugged her hands out from under his and grabbed his wrist, practically prancing into the living room and dragging him along with her like a beloved pet. "Now come and have dinner. It's getting cold."

She was radiating happiness like the sun did light, and it was contagious.

* * *

He learned immediately that Belle was an exceptional cook, and he felt shamed by the simple, easy meals he'd been serving her. The perfectly sautéed chicken breast she'd drizzled in a spicy, buttery sauce melted beneath his fork, paired immaculately with the white wine she'd found hidden in his liquor cabinet. She simply waved off his compliments, finally admitting that when one was caring for an invalid for twenty eight years, making meals naturally becomes a pastime rather than a chore. He was impressed, but was forced to drop the topic when her eyes swam with unshed tears at the mention of her fiancé.

The rest of the meal conversation was easy when he abruptly changed the subject, trading stories about their day. From what Belle told him she'd explored more nooks of his home in twelve hours than he'd managed to in all the years he'd lived there. She complained about dust in places he didn't know existed, had berated him good-naturedly over his complete lack of organization in all arenas except for his collection of suits, and griped at him over his single bar of hair-and-body soap in the shower. When he asked her what else he could possibly need to shower with, he'd been rewarded with a horrified look to rival any he'd seen and he'd murmured apologetically that she was more than welcome to stop by the grocery store and pick up whatever it was she needed on his tab. She'd relaxed just a little at that, although it took some coaxing for her to accept his offer.

They were washing their few dishes in the sink together when Belle finally piped up.

"Why didn't you open the store today?"

He glanced over at her before shrugging.

"I had things to do that I couldn't accomplish from inside the shop. Why?"

"Don't you ever follow you store hours?" She complained. "That doesn't seem like a good way to do business."

He laughed. "The pawn shop is a hobby, Belle. I don't need the income. It's just a way to make myself available for people to come speak with me about deals." He avoided telling her that the week she'd spent showing up at his door was the first time in recent memory that he'd opened the store on time and kept it open throughout the day, just to keep her with him. He had a feeling that would either upset her more or lead to endless teasing, and so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Maybe you should try sometime. It might bring in a little more money." She replied.

"I don't have the time." He said, shrugging. "Nor any interest."

She said nothing, and they finished the dishes in companionable silence. When the last plate had gone back with its fellows she yawned and he offered her his hand. She accepted it, and he escorted her to his room like he had the night before, squeezing her fingers gently and exchanging goodnights before returning to the living room. He laid awake long after the lights had gone off in her room, waiting, but after an hour of silence he finally closed his eyes. He didn't want her to have nightmares, truly, but he'd have crawled gladly into bed with her as a preemptive measure if she'd only asked.

He'd barely drifted off to sleep when the sound of Belle's quickly padding feet on the wooden floor made him open his eyes. He reached out a tired arm to stop her before she sat down at his feet, eliciting an alarmed squeak from her, and he brushed his fingers across her wrist in silent apology. He could feel her trembling beneath his fingertips, worse than the night before. Her breath came in ragged broken gasps, and she sat herself in the open space he made for her, her back against his horizontal belly. Her muscles were tense to the breaking point, the tendons in her neck straining against the pale skin. He wrapped his body around her and she held his hand in her lap with quaking fingers for so long that his hand became numb.

She slowly relaxed against him, and he could feel by the way her trembling shifted to tired little shakes that it was only exhaustion that had calmed her. She eventually shifted uncomfortably against him, beginning to fidget despite the fatigue he could see in her haunted eyes, until he finally understood what she wanted but was too proud to ask for. He took her by the hand, wordlessly leading her back into the bedroom. He lay down on his back and she curled herself against him, taking less than a minute before she was sound asleep. He traced the shadows under her eyes sadly before he closed his own, holding her tightly against his side to protect her from the demons that haunted her.

* * *

They slept soundly through the rest of the night, and when his quiet alarm went off in the morning it was Belle who reached over him to turn it off. He blinked and watched her tiredly as she settled herself back down between his chest and his arm, looking up at him with her clear blue eyes. The dark smudges of fatigue were still beneath her eyes but as he'd suspected, the thoughts that haunted her seemed to have disappeared with the darkness.

"Morning." She said quietly, and he smiled in response.

"G'morning."

She glanced at his phone before returning her eyes to him.

"Work?"

"Mmm."

She snuggled her head onto his shoulder, and he slowly became aware of her nightgown-clad body pressed fully against his side, her bare shins wrapped around one of his. She noticed too; and the glances they exchanged were enough to make her distant. She took her hand off his chest, a hand that still bore her engagement ring, and he tried to hide his body's over-eager response to her by sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed.

"Shower," He mumbled, fleeing with more haste than was graceful, and she made no protest when he shut the door to the bathroom before leaning against it and drawing a ragged breath.

It wasn't her fault that she was plagued by night terrors after such a traumatic experience. It wasn't her fault that she needed company in the night to keep them at bay, and he was more than happy to be the guardian of her sanity.

But damnit, living with her was going to become difficult if she craved his closeness with such desperation at night and then pretended, no matter how innocent and chaste it had been, that they hadn't spent the night half-naked together as soon as one of them left the sheets. He enjoyed their closeness at night; he hated with his entire being seeing her so heartbroken and afraid, but he couldn't deny that he enjoyed it when she wrapped herself against him , even if it was only to seek solace.

It didn't bother him to lose sleep over her. But he craved more, he wanted so much more than the sporadic hugs she seemed to give without second thought and to hold her hand for the ten foot walk from the kitchen to the bedroom, and she was very clearly both wrapped up in her own affairs and, as far as he could tell, had been uninterested in him as anything but a friend since they'd kissed the week before.

As he climbed into the shower, he petulantly thought to himself that no woman who was still wearing her engagement ring should be able to look at him under her lashes and completely undo him.

It was entirely unfair.

* * *

He was so preoccupied by his brooding thoughts that when he got out of the shower he realized he hadn't brought anything to wear into the bathroom with him aside from his discarded suit pants, undershirt, and towel. He listened at the door for a minute, hearing nothing but silence from outside. He debated for a moment before deciding that if she was going to stay with him, they had to have _some _allowances. He wrapped the towel around his waist and, after listening at the door again, hurried into his room for a fresh suit.

Of course she was not only still in the bedroom, but wide awake. She looked up at him from the bed the moment he stepped over the threshold, and he tried his best to ignore her as her eyes immediately swept him from head to toe, eyebrows raised, the same way she'd had the day he'd disastrously decided to wear casual clothes. He limped his way to his closet and rummaged through as quickly as he could for a suit; this one with a button-up shirt of deep navy and a tie of swirling shades of blue. For some reason, having her eyes on him he could ignore, but he felt his cheeks redden at his instinctual choice to wear her favorite color.

"Forgot clothes." He murmured, stating the obvious, and he scurried back into the bathroom with more haste than was necessary. When the door shut behind him he swore he could hear her snigger, but he assured himself it must have been a trick of his ears.

When he emerged a few minutes later straightening his tie, Belle was out of bed and sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in her hands. She looked up and nudged another cup towards him, and he noticed she'd changed from her silky nightgown to an aquamarine turtleneck sweater and jeans.

"Do you have time for breakfast?" She asked, obviously trying to be conversational. A little smile still played at the corners of her lips.

"A small one." He said, and he'd barely settled into the chair before she was disappearing around the corner into the kitchen. He wondered if he made her uncomfortable, but before he could brood he heard the sound of the toaster clicking and despite his melancholy mood couldn't help but smile at her apparent mastery of his home. He sat quietly, sipping from his tea, until she came back with her arms full with a plate of toast, butter, jam, peanut butter, and honey.

"I didn't know what you liked," She mumbled. "So I brought all of it."

"Could have just asked me," He teased, buttering a piece of toast before slathering honey on it. He glanced up to see her watching him curiously.

"Interesting." She murmured, and he shrugged.

"Personally, I'm surprised you thought to bring the honey. I know it's an unusual condiment to put on breakfast toast, but I've always been rather fond of it." He took a bite and she very attentively scraped a thin layering of peanut butter on her toast before nibbling on it.

They sat in quiet companionship for a few minutes before Belle finally spoke up.

"Out of the shop again today?" She asked, her shoulders slumping the slightest bit when he nodded. She added in a teasing tone that wasn't entirely believable, "You are the worst shopkeeper ever, Gold."

He gave her a pouting look over his toast.

"You wound me, m'lady."

She rolled her eyes and ignored him, settling instead on brushing the crumbs from the table with sudden preoccupation.

"Is there anything you need done today?" She asked, her voice suddenly uncertain. He looked at her in surprise.

"Of course not, Belle. You're my guest, not some indentured servant. You've already cleaned my home. Why?"

She sighed and avoided his eye. "I just…I'm not used to the free time. Most of my days have been spent caring for Richard." She gestured to the clean home around them, as if by example. "I don't know how to cope with all this…freedom."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, wondering if he wasn't the only one keeping secrets. "You seemed to have plenty of both when you were breaking down my door to get at my bookshelf."

She gave him a look as if it should be obvious. "Well, of course. You had books I hadn't read, in remarkable conditions I couldn't just pass that up. Richard was upset, but he understood that I couldn't leave with them, so he let me come. After a lot of compromising."

Of course it had been about the books.

He felt bad that he'd made her suffer over his selfish desire to see her, remembering how he could have just as easily lent her the books, but he shook off the thought. It was done, and now she _could _ curl up at home with the books. The walk was much shorter. He gestured to the downstairs.

"Well, dearie, it sounds like you have an answer to your boredom for the day, then. Bring the books up here. Enjoy yourself."

Her eyes lit up. "Really? I can bring them up here?"

He gave her a disbelieving look, as if she were truly being strange. "Why would I have a problem with that? It's not as if moving them more than ten feet from their home will make them disintegrate, Belle. I trust you. Just don't get distracted and clean the shop, please. You'll get lost in all the dust."

Her huge smile warmed his heart, but the pouncing hug she gave him when he stood to leave, even if it did nearly send them both tumbling to the floor when his leg gave out beneath them, made his day.

* * *

His day was just as busy as the one before, but it was tempered by his pleasant morning with Belle, and by mid-day the end was in sight. He decided to surprise Belle by coming home for lunch. The air was crisp but pleasant, and he abandoned his car in favor of the few block stroll from where he was to the grocery store to pick up sandwiches.

The autumn leaves swirled about his feet as he limped his way down the street, and he realized he hadn't noticed the sour, frightened looks people usually gave him that day. He was certain they were still being given to him with equal frequency, however his brightened spirits kept him from noticing and that only served to uncharacteristically brighten his mood even more.

He swept his way into Storybrooke Grocery and went mercifully undetected as he picked up a handful of sandwiches and soup for the two of them, and was heading to the doors before he noticed Belle standing at one of the registers. She looked tense, her basket only holding a few items from what he could tell, and the cashier seemed to be giving her a hard time.

"-Can't just _assume_ anything about Mr. Gold. Why would he just let you _have_ these things? He doesn't _do _that." The girl behind the register was telling Belle in a raised voice as he limped over unobtrusively, and the mean way she was speaking to her had his hackles rising. His ability to be unseen was failing him, and with every step he gathered more attention; whether it was because he was striding along the front of the register line or because people were already beginning to watch the scene between Belle and this nasty young woman unfold, he couldn't tell.

"Can't you just call him?" Belle asked patiently, her voice kind, but he could see from her stance that she was becoming uncomfortable and irritated at the cashier. He wondered how long they'd been arguing for this nasty young woman to have gotten under Belle's skin by even that much.

He had the attention of everyone within eyeshot by the time he sauntered the last few steps, stopping behind Belle. The store had become hushed by his mere recognized presence, but it didn't bother him, and the battle of wills occurring at the register hadn't seemed to notice. He rested his hands on the head of his cane before speaking with a deceptively light tone.

"Problem here, Ashley?" He asked, glancing at the girls name tag to ascertain her identity. He had a good memory for names and faces, but this particular little witch was beneath his notice.

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers when she looked at him, but she must have _truly_ believed in her cause because a moment later they narrowed with a vicious kind of glee before the struck her thumb out to indicate Belle.

"Yeah, this chick thinks she can leave without paying. She says she knows you. That you told her it was fine."

"That I did." He answered easily, and the girl's jaw dropped open. "You didn't think to call me before causing a scene?"

The girl seemed to notice the rest of the store all at once, and her cheeks reddened at the small crowd that had gathered.

"I—"

Gold didn't let her finish, instead looking to Belle who was watching him with a sort of disbelieving, mystified awe, as if she couldn't believe the effect he was having on the people around them, and hadn't decided if she liked it or not.

"Miss French," He purred, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to his side. "Would you like me to fire Miss Ashley for causing you such distress?"

His showmanship had always been one of his great weaknesses, and he hadn't been able to stop himself, but he knew he'd gone too far when Belle's disbelief and awe tipped from undecided to dismayed. She let him keep his hand on her waist, and didn't move away, but her tone was just short of pleasant when she spoke.

"No, I don't want you to fire her. It was an honest mistake."

He raised his eyebrows, knowing she was angry with him too committed to the show to stop. He turned to the girl, who looked as if she were about to faint on the spot.

"Looks like you're lucky today, Miss Ashley, that my companion has more patience and compassion than I." His voice was ice despite his easy smile, and he could tell he was unnerving her. "This is the part where you thank the Lady for those attributes, and for not having you thrown out on your ear."

She looked to Belle and tried several times to speak but couldn't find words, and Belle finally reached over the counter and grabbed her single plastic bag of items. Her hand wrapped around Gold's forearm and she tugged gently, forcing him to stop staring down the young girl and look at him. She put a hand on his cheek to direct his eyes to her.

"She doesn't need to say anything. It's fine. Gold, let's just go. Please?" She asked.

He nodded, sneaking the sandwiches and soup into her bag before taking it from her hands and, with one last glare at the girl and at the surrounding people who all avoided his gaze, obediently followed her out of the store, trailing behind her as she nearly ran outside.

She was down the street by the time the doors shut behind him, and he could practically feel her fury burning him when he approached her.

"What the hell was that?" She hissed at him when he made his way over to her. There were tears in her eyes, and he was momentarily thrown off guard.

"Are you upset?" He asked, reaching up to wipe away a tear that slid down her cheek, but she swatted his hand away with more ferocity than he'd honestly thought her capable of. He took a wary step back as she tried not to scream at him.

"I'm _furious,_ Gold! What the hell? She was just doing her job, and then you came up, all teeth and claws, and scared the poor girl shitless!"

"I was just trying to protect you," He said, understanding her anger but genuinely confused by the depth of it. "Would you rather I had just stood back and let her continue to berate you? Now you'll never be bothered in the store again. Everyone will know you can get what you want without issue."

"Yeah, and now I can't show my face in there ever again either!" She snarled, another angry tear slipping down her cheek. "Now I'm that bitch that brings the wrath of God down on anyone brave enough to look me in the eye!"

"I've displeased you." He said quietly, and for a moment he was ripped apart, remembering Regina's words when he'd thought Belle dead.

_She became a social pariah from her mere involvement with you._

His haunted agony must have shown on his face, because Belle's anger deflated almost immediately, and she took his hand and squeezed.

"You embarrassed me. Made a fool of someone else just to prove a point on my behalf. I don't need your defending, Gold. I can handle myself."

He watched her, still disturbed, but tried to make sense of her words enough to respond.

"And if she hadn't allowed you to leave the store with the items?" He asked, his voice rough. "After she'd had her fun hurting you and calling you crazy for trying to swindle me? She was gathering quite the crowd. She seemed to be enjoying your lack of fight."

"I would have left." Belle said, as if confused as to why she had to explain something so obvious. "Maybe gotten some sort of proof from you, and then come back."

"And if she'd continued to bother you?" He asked quietly. "If, rather than being pointed out as being under my protection, she relished the crowd and saw an easy victory, as it seems like she was going to have against your too-kind patience?"

Her lip twitched upwards the slightest bit, and she met his eyes.

"Then I would have allowed you to unleash your wrath on my behalf, but only because firing an unhelpful cashier under my eye is better than hiding a shallow grave in the woods, which would probably be your course of action."

"You know me so well," He replied easily, lightly, as if she'd just complimented him. She rolled her eyes.

He offered her his arm and she took it, allowing him to escort her the last block to the shop. She seemed to have forgiven him, because she looked up at him after a moment.

"Wait. I thought you were working."

He smiled. "I was coming home for lunch. It will be a late night again, but I'll be nearly caught up by tomorrow's end." He glanced over at her. "Besides, I could hear the sounds of a cat fight from a block away, so I naturally had to put myself in the middle of it."

He was rewarded with a punch on the shoulder, but she'd removed her arm from his to do it and the lack of her touch wounded him more than the strike. Even so, he rubbed his arm and gave her a petulant look.

"What about you?" He asked. "I thought you were reading."

"I was," She said dryly. "But then I was going to shower, and the thought of using a bar of soap as shampoo was so distressing that it brought me out of the house on this fruitless quest."

He peeked into the bag that was draped around his wrist to see the contents. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash. Frivolities that he grew bored even looking at. He dropped the bag back down to his side.

"Fascinating." He rumbled, digging his keys out of his pocket and realizing, too late, that he'd never put the new keys on his keychain. He watched as Belle retrieved the correct set of keys from her pocket, smirking at him.

"I have the keys to the castle," She teased, wiggling them at him, but he didn't make a move to take them.

"So you do. Are you going to let me in?" He asked. "Or shall we eat on the front stoop?"

"Not going to take them from me?" She teased. He shook his head.

"I'm not going to tousle with you on the sidewalk." He responded, amused. "What would people think?"

Belle rolled her eyes before letting them both in, and he followed her up the stairs and to the kitchen.

"So," He asked once they were finally seated and partway into their meal. "How are you liking it here?"

She smiled at him. "Very well, thank you. I've never really thanked you properly for letting me stay. For all that you've done."

He snorted. "You don't need to thank me, Belle."

"Just the same," She said. "Thank you. I'll try to be out of your hair as soon as possible."

He nearly spat out the mouthful of soup he'd just sipped.

"You're leaving? When?" He sputtered. Belle looked at him as if he were crazy.

"Once I get a job," She said slowly, confused by his reaction. "Of course." She squirmed beneath his gaze. "Unless that's too long for you, of course. I'm sure I can find somewhere else, I could ask my father—"

"No." He said, too quickly. "No, of course you're welcome for as long as you'd like."

He took another slow sip from his soup before he responded, thoughtful.

"Your father lives here? Are you close?"

"Not really."

"Why?" He asked, and Belle shrugged.

"I can't really remember." She replied honestly. "We see each other occasionally, though it's been a while. Overprotective man. Always telling me what I should and shouldn't do. He was a big fan of Richard, though. I wonder how he'll take it to hear…" She trailed off, and Gold had to bite his tongue to keep from begging her to finish. He'd never wanted to hear the last half of a sentence so badly in his life.

"I see." He finally murmured, once all chance of her finishing her thought had passed. He glanced at his watch.

"Need to go?" She asked, and he glanced up at her tone. She seemed disappointed.

"Yes." He said, brushing the crumbs from his jacket as he stood. She wandered around the table to him.

"Tie is crooked," She mumbled, putting a hand on his chest and fixing the silk garment. "I like your color choices today." She added as she stepped back, satisfied.

"Thanks." He murmured, feeling his ears redden.

She walked him to the stairs, and seemed as if she would have followed him the rest of the way downstairs before he stopped her.

"What are your evening plans?" He asked abruptly.

She shrugged, giving him a wide-eyed look. "Don't have any."

"Yes you do," He replied teasingly, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Do I?"

"Yes." He said, smiling. "You're going to dinner. With me. Let me take you out." His heart pounded at the effort it took to not be shy about such a brazen demand.

"It's so nice to be asked," She complained good-naturedly. "I used to think you were such a gentleman, you know."

He pouted at her. "I am still a gentleman. I'm going to let you choose where we go. I'm going to pay. And I'll even let you pick what you order, if you're nice."

She glared at him, but there was a smile playing on her lips. "_Such_ a gentleman."

"Would you rather I do this properly, then?"

"Couldn't hurt."

He bowed deeply. Putting a hand behind his back in a fist, he implored her with an open palm with the other.

"Isabella French—"

"_Isabella? _It's just Belle—"

"Would you do me the honor of allowing me to take you to dinner tonight? Or must I ask your father if I'm being too bold?"

He was rewarded with a swat to the side of his head, and he looked up to see Belle blushing a deep crimson. She seemed flustered and he was amused; curious what he'd said to embarrass her so.

"Stop it, Gold." She whined. "It's just dinner, not an attempt to win my hand in marriage."

"Is that a yes?"

She rolled her eyes.

"I should decline, just to spite you."

"That doesn't sound like a no to me." He turned and sauntered down the stairs. "Since I had to ask so politely, you've lost the choice of where to go. I'll meet you at Granny's at eight."

"You aren't even going to pick me up?" She whined after him. "Granny's? What a cheapskate."

"See you at eight!" He called, shutting the door behind him before she could protest.

* * *

**Hope you're enjoying the fic so far! **** I love hearing back from you guys, so don't hesitate to leave a review! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Please notice that the rating has shifted from T to M!**

* * *

He could see her scowling at him through the window when he pulled up to Granny's that evening, and he hurried out of the car to meet her. He'd been caught up with the last of his clients; flying through the last half of his work and managing to finish by the evening what he'd expected would take him until the next night. His triumphant feeling of accomplishment had lasted until he'd gotten to his car and, looking at the clock on the dashboard, realized he was forty five minutes late to his "date" with Belle. It had then promptly hidden somewhere near his feet with his heart and stomach for the remainder of the drive.

He rushed inside, brushing past the alarmed hostess and straight to Belle, whose dark scowl hadn't left him since he'd come into view.

"I am so sorry," He puffed, sliding into the booth across from her and shooting her a truly contrite look. "I lost track of time."

Belle crossed her arms and looked unmoved by his words. Her tone was clipped.

"I don't understand how you stay in business. You seem to have such trouble keeping appointments."

He produced a bouquet of roses from behind his back and offered them to her apologetically.

"I really am sorry," He pleaded. "It won't happen again. I swear. Forgive me?"

She took the offered roses, looking surprised by his gift, and brought them delicately up to her nose. He noticed immediately that despite her aloof demeanor that afternoon, she'd apparently taken his offer for dinner seriously. She'd changed into a strapless little navy blue dress that was far too short for his already tense nerves, pulling her hair back into a loose yet elegant bun atop her head. He was fairly certain it was the first time he'd seen her with any sort of makeup on, not that she'd ever need it, and he found his eyes straying over her form with appreciation.

The dress was perfectly molded to her form; snug but not tight, revealing in all the right places to tease a man but conservative enough to make the mystery overwhelmingly enticing. His mind spun quickly out of his tightly-reigned control when a tiny part of him realized she'd dressed that way for _him._ Or had she just been calling his bluff; meeting his bravado that afternoon with her own, daring him to take the evening seriously? It wouldn't be a surprise. Either way, his suit and tie ensemble suddenly felt shabby on his shoulders in light of her stunning and calculated beauty, and he shifted in his seat, wishing he'd had time to fix his hair or check his tie before rushing inside.

His eyes traced the line of her throat down to her collarbone with reverence, and he found himself wondering if the pale skin there would be as soft beneath his fingers as it looked. He realized that the times they _had_ touched, he'd been so concentrated on calming her that he had no idea what her skin felt like, and it took all his mental power to not reach out and correct that oversight. He couldn't; _wouldn't _touch her when she was so mentally fragile and he was unsure of her intentions, especially when he was certain that if he touched her with his hands, his mouth would follow, and then..

"You really feel bad." She said, snapping him out of his reverie. His eyes flew back up to meet hers, biting his cheek at the amused look she was giving him. He wondered but had no idea how long he'd been sitting there gawking at her, and he felt his ears redden. He also had no idea what she'd just said.

"What?"

"I said you must feel really bad. Men only give flowers when they know they're in trouble."

He wrinkled his nose in distaste, completely sidetracked and offended by her words. "I bought those for you right after I invited you to dinner. _Before_ I knew I was in trouble. It was supposed to be more proof that I can be a gentleman." He cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze before mumbling under his breath. "What fool of a man buys red roses as apology flowers? What a waste. Honestly."

_She should be adorned with jewels,_ He thought to himself. _She would look lovely in gold, diamond, sapphires. If she thinks I'd use flowers to show my contrition, she doesn't know anything._

She quirked an eyebrow at him, still obviously angry, but there was humor in her voice. "And now my accepting them is proof that I am willing to consider forgiving you. But they don't give you gentleman points, roses or not."

He sighed, unable to help but chuckle as some of the tension left his body. "Small victories, I guess. If I offer up myself for another..." She narrowed her eyes at his words, making him hesitate, and he realized that she'd only dressed up to play her part in his joking demand to take her out, not to drive him wild. While disappointing, he was smug that either way he got to sit across from her and look at her beauty regardless of her complete misunderstanding of his intentions.

Well, he could enjoy the sight of her and still play the game he'd never meant to start. He leaned forward and enunciated the word when he continued, a smirk on his face. "..._Date_ entirely of your choice, will you accept my apology?"

He watched her weigh her options before she offered her hand. He shook it, and she nodded. "Deal. Now let's order, I'm starving."

The meal managed to be salvaged with enough contrite words and selflessly surrendered fries, and by the end of it they were back on easy terms. He'd begun by teasing her once she relaxed about ordering a burger and fries on a date, but she'd easily retorted that if he considered their meal a date he wasn't doing very well at it. He immediately demoted the evening to a regular dinner out, and the word was dropped between them. He hadn't noticed the tension before, but things had gotten immensely easier after that.

Date or no date, he offered his arm to her after paying and they made their way slowly out of the diner arm in arm.

They may as well have been doing something lewd and unsightly, by the way people stared. _Had_ been staring since he'd sat down across from her. The way they continued to stare through the windows of the shabby diner when he went out of his way to open the door for her when they reached his car. Belle spoke up when he slid into the driver's seat a moment later, voicing what he had hoped she had been blind to. He looked over to see her staring unabashedly right back at a couple peering at them from their seats, and it was with amusement and pride for her that he smiled when they looked away.

"Why does everyone always stare when they see us together?" She asked, keeping her eyes on the now-uncomfortable couple in their headlights, who were raptly avoiding looking in their general direction.

"The Beast of Storybrooke doesn't keep much company," He replied dryly, and he was unsurprised by the gentle swat she gave his arm for the remark.

"For the last time, stop calling yourself that." She complained, and he backed out of their parking space and drove the short distance home.

"It's the truth." He replied easily. "They don't know what to think about seeing me with another person, so they stare. It's not surprising, sadly."

They were in his shop and heading up the stairs before she continued. "They have to have seen you with someone before. No one is friendless."

He hated her word choice, but answered her nonetheless. "A beautiful woman appears out of the blue, and scolds me, a man most people would go far out of their way to avoid, twice in public in a single day, and you think that no one is going to gossip?" He glanced over at her, smirking. "Dream on."

"Please. As if no one in this town has ever stood up to you." She argued.

"Not a single soul." He said, stopping in the living room and turning to her. He enunciated each word, leaning back on his heels to take all of her in. She was an exquisite sight, and in that moment he was certain that there wasn't a single person in the world that could match her. "Except for you. Brave little Belle."

She shook her head at his kind words before idly bringing the bouquet of flowers up to smell again, making a pleased noise. He couldn't help the little smile that crossed his features as he watched her dig out a vase from beneath the sink, filling it with water before arranging the flowers within. "My gentlemanly and not at all apology flowers seem to meet with your approval, at least?" He inquired.

She nodded, placing the flowers carefully in the middle of the kitchen table before returning to him, leaning against his side as she gazed at the bouquet.

"You aren't such a bad gentleman after all, you know." She said softly, tensing when he snorted in amusement. "Even if you were a half hour late to a cheap date and brought me guilt flowers."

"There's that word again," He teased, earning a sideways glare from her. "And just what does a gentleman do that I failed to?" He asked. "Aside from the aforementioned and dually noted mistakes?"

"A gentleman knows how to be courteous." She answered. "Kind, charming, chivalrous. A good dancer. A knight." She listed them off on her fingers. "He doesn't force ladies out to meals, and then tease them mercilessly over whether or not said dinner was a date or not."

"Was it?" He teased, leaning against her and trying not to be obvious in how hopefully he searched her expression. He wanted to ask her honestly; to know the genuine truth, but the fact was that if it _had _been a date, it had been disastrous, and that wasn't the way he wanted his first to go with Belle. Still, a date was a date, and if she'd just admit she'd just gone on one with him then maybe..

"You wish," She purred in reply, and he was unable to read beyond the banter of her tone to discern any meaning behind it.

He rolled his eyes before switching tactics and offering his hand to her. She eyed it warily, looking at it as if he'd just offered her a knife.

"What?"

"It won't bite," He crooned, avoiding her question. After a moment she hesitantly put her hand in his, and he placed her free hand on his shoulder before wrapping an arm around her waist. He held their hands out to the side, striking a pose and raising an eyebrow to her.

"May I have this dance?"

She barked a laugh, looking at him as if he were truly a lunatic. "Gold, what—"

He ignored her, raising their clasped hands above her head and spinning her in a graceful little twirl before he wrapped an arm amiably around her waist and pulled her close. Her expression was wide-eyed and mystified when he smiled at her, and the mischievous part of him that enjoyed doing battle with her wits was smug to see her thrown completely off guard.

"What?" He purred, tugging her to his side and holding their hands out at shoulder level again. "You said a gentleman knows how to dance. Have you never danced before, Belle? Unable to recognize the steps?"

"Never without music," She complained, and he obliged her by beginning to hum a slow little tune as he swayed, leading her in a few steps before she laughed and shook her head.

"Now you're just being ridiculous," She protested, trying to pull out of his embrace.

"Fine," He purred, undeterred, and swept her with quick little spins into the kitchen, where he kept a small radio atop the fridge. He reached up and turned it on, making them both jump at the loud, grinding, grating pop music that filled the small space.

"Better?" He teased, holding her flush against his chest while he fiddled with the dial above his head.

"You really know how to impress a girl," She answered dryly, moving her hands to rest on his chest, steadying him as he fumbled on tiptoe for better music.

After a moment of white noise he managed to find a more pleasing station; gentle, soothing classical music altering the mood with jarring results; turning the humor and teasing and halted dance into a sudden, jarring moment of intensity. They froze, looking at one another. He was suddenly aware of her body pressed against his, and how completely he'd overstepped his boundaries with her, but before he could pull away Belle smiled at him.

"What's wrong?" She asked, matching his purring sweetness from moments before. "Lost your nerve?"

He shook himself to clear his head before easing back onto his feet and taking her offered hand, forcing himself to concentrate on the music and the steps rather than the way her too-small dress made her legs look exquisite, or the way her scent invaded his mind when she pressed her soft cheek against his, or how, with his hand resting on her hip, he could feel the thin fabric shift beneath his fingers with every movement she made.

The music was too slow; too flowing and smooth and lacking any sort of rhythm for them to match their steps to, but he led her through the song in graceful little sweeps around the kitchen, twirling her at odd moments and making her giggle. He gradually relaxed at her obvious enjoyment, surprising her when he dipped her back at the songs end. He grinned at the wide-eyed look she gave him, nearly dropping her when she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his, nuzzling his nose with her own and turning his over-tight muscles to jelly.

"M'lady," He asked kindly when the last chords of the song died away and he'd safety eased them back onto their feet. He couldn't keep the teasing tone in his voice, and he let it drop in favor of a gentler, softer tone. "How was that?"

"Very gentlemanly," She conceded breathlessly, brushing his loose hair back behind his ear with gentle fingers and giving him a look that made his skin tingle. He had to remind himself that this was a _game _she was playing; but in that moment he'd have given anything to drop it and let his intuition take over where his humor was failing. His fingers twitched against her hip in response to his thoughts, and he forced himself to pick up the façade again before he got carried away.

"Good." The music abruptly changed to a jaunty, flitting little tune and he immediately swept her up again and began to twirl her in a hasty little dance number, making her shriek with indignation and swat at him.

"Gold!" She cried as he danced with her, changing the steps to a slightly more modern but no less awkward dance. "Enough!"

"Not until you dance with me," He teased without losing a step. He placed a hand back on her waist, his eyes mischievous. "A lady isn't so if she doesn't know how to dance."

"I know how to dance." She complained, and he couldn't tell if she was amused or upset. "But not with you jostling me!"

"Prove it," He goaded, slowing his step, and after quirking an eyebrow she surprised him by looping her fingers through the sides of his belt at his hips and backing him across the kitchen. His eyes never left hers, and he was unnerved and hypnotized by the dark look in her eyes. He jumped when his back hit the fridge with a thud, scattering his nerves. She was suddenly pressed against him, reaching her hands up his sides and brushing through his hair, making his pulse race as she leaned close. They were an inch apart and he was leaning towards her lips before her hands continued upwards and the music shifted abruptly.

"Oh." He stammered, breaking eye contact to look up and watch her fiddle with the radio dial with deft fingers. When the music returned to the grinding, jarring pop music a moment later he lowered his gaze back to her. The mischievous, dark look in her eyes would have frightened him if it hadn't instantly sizzled across his nerve endings in a path down to his groin, and he had to swallow down a groan when she stepped close.

"Silly Gold," She teased, beginning to dance a rough little number that he was unfamiliar with, pressing her body against his as she did so. When he didn't move she looped her fingers through his belt again and pulled him away from the fridge, raising his arms above her head. His mind blanked when she pressed her hips gently against his to show him how to move, and when he paled she looked through her lashes at him and asked sweetly,

"What's wrong, Gold? Never danced before?"

He'd had a truly clever remark, something about how it wasn't a dance; it was a sexual maneuver, but it left his brain when she grabbed his hands and shifted the dance, resting them on her hips. He gulped, shaking his head before admitting timidly, "Never like this, no."

She lifted her arms above her head and began to sway to the music, loosely draping them around his shoulders a moment later. They danced that way until the last throbbing tones of the music ended, and when he dropped his hands to his sides and backed away from her with too much haste he realized was trembling. She smiled triumphantly at him.

She'd danced lithely, beautifully, and it was taking every last shred of his willpower to not throw himself at her. If she'd noticed his obvious desire when she was dancing so shamelessly against him, she'd made no sign of it, but he was painfully aroused when he bowed to her.

"I concede defeat, my lady. You are too good a dancer for me." He panted, and she glowed with pleasure at his words.

"I didn't know we were competing," She teased, curtsying to him nonetheless. The gentle gesture was completely at odds with the woman she'd been only moments before, and it startled him. "But thank you."

When he stood on tiptoe to turn off the radio she was suddenly pressed against him again, and he met her big blue eyes with his own in alarm. He had to remind himself she was just helping him; keeping him from falling over trying to turn the thing off. He wrapped an arm loosely around her shoulders, finding the power switch and flipping the electronic off as quickly as his fumbling fingers would allow before releasing her.

She was staring at him, expectant, and he didn't know what more she wanted from him. She'd won the game; he was painfully sensitized; unsatisfied, teased, and hungry for the feel of her against him, and she wanted something _more_ from him? She needed to get _away _from him, before he did something he'd regret. He glanced over her shoulder to the clock over the oven, grateful when he saw that it was nearly one in the morning.

"Bedtime?" He asked, trying not to sound relieved. He'd never looked forward to time without her; but now he only prayed that he'd have enough time to regain his composure before she came looking for solace from her nightmares. In his current state, he'd go insane if he had to crawl into bed with her to keep her warm.

"Oh." She mumbled, following his gaze and looking surprised by the time. She seemed disappointed, her shoulders slumping when she spoke again. "Yes, I suppose it should be."

He escorted her to her room, knowing he was being hasty to the point of rudeness, but he couldn't stand another moment near her without doing something irrational. He tipped her chin back with his fingertips and looked into her eyes when they reached his room, and she closed her eyes. He planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head, not sure what to think when she slumped her shoulders in response.

"Sleep well, Belle." He murmured before stepping away.

She turned away from him too quickly, mumbling a quiet good night before shutting the door behind her, nearly hitting him with it. He stared after her, aghast, before making his way back to the living room.

* * *

He waited until her light was off to lounge back into the couch, mystified and confused about her sudden change of behavior. He was wide awake, mind buzzing, and he loosened his tie absently as he replayed the events of the evening in his mind, trying to figure out what he'd done to upset her so at the end.

He was still lying on the couch an hour later, having given up on wondering and progressed to daydreaming when he heard her door open. Worry snapped him away from the sultry thoughts he'd found himself consumed with, and he watched as she crept towards him in a silky little white nightgown that ended just below her hips. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and he began to sit up.

"Nightmare?" He asked, concerned, and had almost sat up before she reached him and put a restraining hand on his shoulder. He hesitantly laid back down with her guidance, and she settled herself on the edge of the couch at his chest before leaning down and, after searching his eyes with her bright blue ones for a moment in the dim light, pressed her lips against his.

The self-control he'd so carefully reconstructed over the last hour shattered, and he found himself immobile when her mouth pressed harder against his, grazing the nape of his neck gently with her nails. It wasn't until her tongue flicked against his lips, looking for permission, that he groaned and pulled her into his arms. His lips parted for her and their tongues met, tasting one another.

"Belle—" He gasped when they broke apart for breath, voice shaking as he tried to reassemble his thoughts into a coherent pattern. She bowed her head to nibble on the stubble at his jaw, putting a finger to his lips to silence him as she nipped there gently, and he groaned. His heart was pounding when she shifted and knelt with a leg on either side of one of his and it was all he could manage with his trembling hands to pull her face back to his and claim her mouth again with his own.

He had no idea what was going on; what had made her suddenly want him, but all that his mind howled at him was that she was _practically straddling his goddamn lap with her tongue in his mouth_ and that he needed to stop worrying so much about the why and just enjoy it.

He opened his eyes when her fingers deftly undid the tie around his throat, and he watched it sail to the floor over her shoulder. She was watching him when his eyes returned to her a moment later, and there was no mistaking the hunger in her eyes.

"I want you," She growled in a tone he'd never heard her use before; all command and lust and dark intentions. There was no question in her words, no asking. It was a statement; take it or leave it, and he responded by wrapping an arm around her back and pressing her flush against his chest, nearly falling apart when she ground her hips against his leg in desire.

"I thought—" He gasped out between clenched teeth, working to keep himself together "-that you didn't want me. Thought we were just playing-"

"I know what you thought, Gold, but you have a terrible poker face." She replied breathily, tipping his head back and biting his throat, eliciting a disbelieving moan from between his lips that she rewarded with another gyration of her hips against his thigh. "But you're also completely, utterly blind."

She kissed him before leaning back and beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt, and he took advantage of her distraction to trace her ear with his tongue, gently nibbling it with his teeth as his hands traced her sides through her nightgown. She gasped when his palms brushed the underside of her breasts.

She turned her head, tangling her hands in his hair and capturing his mouth with hers, biting his lower lip hard enough to elicit a whimper from him. She grabbed his hands when he tried to cup her breasts, moving them to wrap around her back instead.

"Bed," She commanded against his mouth, moving her legs so she was truly straddling his waist and wrapping her legs around him. She wrapped her arms around his neck when he stood, holding her in his arms.

"Yes, ma'am." He growled, stumbling with her to the bedroom and sharing sloppy yet eager kisses as they went. His knee was screaming, and he wholeheartedly welcomed the pain. He could feel the warmth at the crux of her thighs against his erection through his clothes, and it was only the pain in his leg that kept him sane.

He nearly dropped her onto the bed when they reached it, but if she noticed his lack of grace she made no point of it, dragging him down with her and murmuring in his ear to be still. He held himself above her as she hastily undid his buttons and nibbled his throat, laving the spots apologetically with her tongue when she bit too hard and made him whimper. Her mouth followed her fingers, her tongue tracing his collarbone as she wrapped an ankle around one of his knees, making him lower himself to press his hips against hers. He bit his cheek to keep from thrusting wildly against her, making a choked sound in his throat as she rubbed against him through his trousers.

"Please," He begged, sitting up so she could peel his unbuttoned shirt from him. She rolled them over, settling herself on his thighs as she undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, and he brushed her hair aside and lapped at her throat as she worked, his fingertips tracing up her arms and down her collarbone to her chest, finally taking her breasts into his hands and squeezing gently. She moaned against his shoulder, biting there and trembling against him as he gently pinched a nipple through the sheer fabric, dipping his head and nipping at the hardened bud with his teeth through the silk.

She jerked away from him with a gasp, ripping his pants down around his ankles, and he bucked his hips when she grasped him through the fabric of his black silk boxers a moment later. Their eyes met, her eyes alight with desire, and he threw his head back and buried his hands in the sheets with a strained growl when she squeezed him firmly, running a hand along his hard length.

"Belle," He pleaded, trying to pull her up to him and away from his throbbing cock. "I'm not going to last if you keep that up."

She waved off his hands but let him go, taking him by surprise when she grabbed the waistband of his boxers and tugged them around his ankles with his pants without hesitation. He had to resist the urge to cover himself against her appraising, hungry eyes when she looked him over head to toe, lingering on his newly exposed anatomy.

He sat up and pulled her against his chest when her gaze became too much, capturing her mouth with his own and lazily exploring her with his tongue. His fingers traced her nightgown, resting at her hips, and she stopped him when he moved to tug it over her head. He growled in protest, and she nipped at his lower lip and straddled him.

He broke away from their kiss with a strangled noise, gawking at her with wide eyes.

"No underwear?" He hissed disbelievingly, using every last shred of willpower to not grind himself against her when she settled herself in his lap. She seemed to have no such qualms, rubbing herself hungrily against his cock, coating him in her wetness as her nails scraped along his shoulderblades.

"You didn't respond to my obvious advances in the kitchen," She murmured in his ear, making him whimper when she gyrated her hips teasingly against him. "So I thought I'd make my intentions more than obvious."

"Belle," He growled between his clenched teeth, stopping her torturous ministrations. "Belle, I don't have any condoms."

He nearly came when she arched her back, raising herself up to position him at her entrance, and it took all his resolve to not move his hips as she considered his words. He ground his teeth as he watched her, clawing at the sheets when she eased down and teased the tip of his cock.

"Screw the condoms." She snarled after a moment, gripping a fistful of his hair and pressing her forehead against his, her voice strained as he panted with restraint. "I want to fuck you, Gold."

Certain that was the most erotic thing he'd ever heard come from a woman's lips, he slowly arched his hips upwards, grabbing hold of her thighs to steady himself as he eased into her. She closed her eyes, quietly moaning, eliciting a gasp when he buried himself fully inside of her. He hissed between his teeth, feeling her walls rippling against his cock, teasing him, and his head slumped back against the sheets when she raised herself, teasing the tip of his length for a moment before taking him all the way again. It was too much; she was too wet, too tight, and he had to beg for her to stop when she began to make a rhythm of it.

"Belle," He whimpered, his hands slipping to her hips as he stilled her, pulling her down against his chest to kiss her. His hands wandered over her back beneath the nightgown and she patiently let him regain his composure, her tongue lazily toying with his, hands in his hair as he explored her body.

"Sweet later," She eventually promised against his lips before pulling away and straddling him again. He groaned low in his throat, thrusting himself into her before her hands rested themselves on his abdomen and eased him back down. He opened his eyes to see her watching him with a wild look in her eyes.

"Don't move," She whispered, waiting expectantly for him to nod before she eased down and took his length in one motion, burying him inside of her. He threw his head back, making a strangled sound of pleasure as she raised up and did it again, slowly working her way up to a rough and fast pace that he couldn't have kept up with if she'd demanded it of him.

He clenched his muscles, writhing beneath her, but every time he jerked his hips to meet hers she broke the pace to put her hands on his abdomen and still his movements, holding him there until she was sufficiently satisfied to continue her rhythm, teasing his cock at her entrance each time before she did so. He whimpered, biting his bottom lip and clawing at the sheets, so beyond the point of needing to come that it was painful, but at the same moment wanting the feeling of her riding him so relentlessly to last forever. She was a goddess; a wicked, sexy_, fucking dominating goddess, _and she was driving him insane in the best possible way.

He came undone when he opened his eyes a moment later and saw her fondling her breasts through the nightgown, her expression of pained, intense pleasure mirroring his as she met his eyes. He threw his head back, crying out her name as he lost control and pounded into her. His interruption to her rough, fast rhythm set her off a moment later and she pressed herself against his chest, teeth finding his shoulder as she hissed his name, her walls spasming around his cock as they both came. They held each other tightly, riding the waves of each others pleasure. She'd ridden her climax for what felt like an eternity, and it had been the most blissful eternity he'd ever experienced.

They traded breathless kisses between heaving breaths, foreheads pressed together as Gold struggled to reconstruct himself in the aftermath of such an intense orgasm. He ran his palms down Belle's back, idly tracing her form until finally they relaxed against one another.

"That was..." He hesitated, words failing him when she opened her eyes and he saw the dazed look in his eyes mirrored in hers.

She just nodded, bobbing her head a few times before giving him a kiss that took his newly regained breath away. "Agreed." She admitted, once they finally broke apart.

She whimpered against his lips when he eased out of her a few minutes later, gently pulling her down to rest against his side. She snuggled there gratefully, resting her head on his shoulder, and he ran his fingertips against her shoulder idly while she got comfortable. The muscles in her legs trembled sporadically against his, and it wasn't until he leaned down to kiss her and received a halfhearted response that he realized she was falling asleep.

"Tired?" He crooned softly, nuzzling her nose with his own, chuckling low in his throat at the sated, exhausted look she gave him through her lashes when he traced her lips lightly with the tip of his tongue a moment later.

He tugged the blankets up around them, earning a murmured thanks from her before he buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes, finally content.

* * *

**Oh hey there, M rating! Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. More to come; please don't forget to fav, review, or follow if you're enjoying the story!**


	9. Chapter 9

It was late morning when the unsuccessful search for her by his wandering hands awoke him, and he sleepily doubled his efforts, skimming his arm along the length of the bed , snapping awake when he found nothing but cold sheets.

He opened his eyes, sure he'd find her just out of his reach, but was surprised to find himself alone. He dragged himself out of bed, dressing habitually in slacks and a maroon button-up shirt and black tie before wandering out to the living room. He caught a glimpse of Belle standing at the stove in the kitchen in her flattering yellow dress, and he relaxed just a little as he sauntered over. He could smell eggs and bacon cooking.

"Hey," He said, breathless with relief. "Good morning."

She glanced over her shoulder at him, taking in his clothes with a quick sweep of her eyes before giving him a small smile and returning to her task.

"Morning, Mr. Suit."

Her light, teasing tone had him hesitating mid-step, and he leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen rather than going to her as he'd originally intended. He rubbed one of his arms, fidgeting slightly. She was being so _casual._

"Breakfast?" He asked, and he hated how the way he said the word seemed to voice all the doubts and questions he suddenly had.

"Very astute," She teased, idly turning a piece of bacon with the fork she held. He watched her nervously, and after a while she seemed to become aware of his eyes on her because she looked at him again.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her head tilting in confusion. There was no depth to her words, no questions beneath the one she asked, but he answered her anyway as if there were.

"Last night," He hedged, picking up a napkin off the counter and beginning to shred it into strips with his long fingers to give his hands something to do. He'd meant to continue, to form a cogent thought, but his words failed him and after a moment Belle hesitantly spoke.

"…What about it?" She seemed suddenly tense, and he could see in his peripheral vision that she'd turned towards him.

"Unexpected," He mumbled, embarrassed and appalled at his sudden lack of ability to look her in the eye. "Was surprised. "

Her hands settled over his, stopping his nervous fidgeting, and he glanced up at her to see her watching him.

"But nice?" She offered, sounding hopeful.

"But nice." He conceded. They shared a shy little smile.

"You know," She began quietly. "If you'd opened your eyes at all in the last two days, it wouldn't have been a surprise. I was giving you some pretty intense hints."

He looked away. "I don't—I wasn't expecting.." He sighed, collecting his thoughts before he spoke again. He _really _needed to regain his grasp on vocalized speech, but at the moment it seemed to be eluding him. "It wasn't even a date?" He offered, hoping she'd understand his meaning.

She giggled, and the sound was again so at odds with the domineering woman he'd spent the night with that it startled him. Her ability to be completely different in and out of the bed went deeper than he'd expected, and it unnerved him a bit.

"It's fine that it wasn't a date, Gold. Don't be so old fashioned."

He was chastened by her words, but relaxed just a little. _Yeah, Gold. Don't be so old fashioned._ His mind hissed at him, and he forced the thought aside.

"Just the same," He replied, squeezing her hands gently. "I rather look forward to taking you out on a real one, if you'll let me." He tried to force humor into his tone so it sounded like he was joking, to soften the blow if she rejected him.

"I suppose we could work something out," She teased, superfluously rolling her eyes and making a show of feigned disinterest. "If you insist."

"Brave little Belle," He crooned softly, amused. "Always so hard to please." He smirked, leaning down to kiss her, but when her eyes fluttered shut it suddenly made him bold. Two could be _casual_. He stopped a hairs breadth from her lips, letting her feel his warm breath before he whispered, "You're burning the bacon, dearie."

She opened her eyes , looking scandalized and tricked. She pouted at him but returned to her cooking.

"Ass."

He smiled mischievously, coming up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist and nuzzle her hair now that he knew he was welcome. She tensed but made a pleased sound in her throat, resting her head against his, and he waited until she relaxed and leaned against him to snatch a piece of bacon off of one of the plates, sniggering as he did.

"Hey!" She complained in a whining tone that made him laugh. He shoved the scalding bacon into his mouth when she grabbed for it and was rewarded with a rough swat to the arm, which only made him laugh harder despite his burned tongue and full mouth.

"Get out of the kitchen if you can't behave!" She scolded.

"You're here less than a week and you've already kicked me out of my own kitchen?" He complained, wandering out in a mock-pout and removing his tie. As an afterthought, he tossed it over his shoulder carelessly at her. "Fine. I need to shower anyway."

He made his way to the bathroom, turning on the light and leaning over the sink to discern from the mirror his need to shave, scrubbing at his jawline with his palm. Belle distantly called his name, sounding suddenly concerned, and he flinched when his fingers passed over a tender spot just beneath his chin. He leaned in closer and tilted his head up, noticing a dark mark beneath the stubble and, he noticed, another at his throat.

"What the hell?" He growled, leaning in closer to the mirror, prodding the tender spots with his fingertips. He unbuttoned his shirt, uncovering two more marks at his collarbone, and when he tugged the shirt back and uncovered a bruise in a crescent shape at his shoulder he realized with shock what they were.

He was staring at himself, frozen with his shirt half off when the door ghosted open the slightest bit. He met Belle's nervous eyes in the mirror as she peeked at him through the small opening in the door.

"Did..Did you _bruise_ me?" He asked. They weren't bruises, they were love bites, and he could see the argument in her eyes before she glanced at his throat and flushed. When there were so many, he thought, they were just _bruises._

"Sorry," She said, pushing the door open a little bit more and giving him an apologetic look. "I guess I was a bit…rough." She touched the crescent-shaped bruise, the largest, and he flinched away from her fingers.

"You bit me." He stated, dumbstruck, touching the mark himself and staring at it in the mirror. "Hard enough to leave a mark with your teeth."

She dropped her gaze, squirming as he removed his shirt. There were no more marks on his front, but as he twisted in the mirror, he could make out long red lines where her nails had scratched him.

"The lady was rough with me, it seems." He said dryly."And yet I'm the one they call a beast."

"You aren't a beast." She murmured, but didn't argue with his assessment of her. She searched his eyes, her own gaze impassive. "Are you angry with me?"

He snorted, torn between anger and dark amusement. "I don't know yet." He made a shooing motion. "You're still burning the bacon, and I need to shower. Now get out."

"Gold," She began, and he nudged her side with his hip until she backed out of the bathroom. When she was outside the door he leaned forward and gave her a chaste little kiss to soften the edges of his frustration.

"Enough, Belle." He said, exasperated and a little annoyed at her persistence. "Just go cook breakfast. We'll talk about this later."

* * *

He tried to shower quickly, eyeing Belle's toiletries with skepticism before digging his soap out from underneath them and washing the evening from himself. His mind drifted under the hot water, and he realized he was sore. Not just his muscles, but the back of his legs, his abdomen, his neck; everywhere that Belle had clung to him had left him feeling more than a little abused, and that troubled him.

He'd always pictured making love to Belle as just that; _making love_. He'd have never in his wildest dreams guessed that the beneath the lovely, innocent blue eyes was a woman who was willing to crack a whip both inside and outside the bed; who demanded sweetness later in exchange for incredibly attractive but rough, dominating, hands-off sex. He hadn't even her _naked, _for God's sake. He wasn't entirely certain how much he liked that.

And she had _marked _him. He would have to be a fool to deny that it had been anything but phenomenal; and he hadn't really noticed the pain but damnit, she had _marked him in some pretty obvious spots._ He was going to have to work to find clothes that covered the mark on his throat, and he wouldn't be able to shave until the one on his jaw went away.

_She left you love bites, you moron,_ His mind argued. _You're going to argue against a woman like that leaving her claim on an undesirable like you?_

_No,_ He thought to himself. _But not in such a public spot, not with that engagement ring on still. Not after a not-date._

A woman like Belle deserved to be courted first; taken out to dinner, coffee, bought extravagant gifts. He should have had to work for her kisses; beg for her favor; win her heart. It would drive him mad in the process, but damnit, _that was how things were done the first time_ _between lovers_. Not with rough, stolen kisses and bites and not even waking up together in the morning. A tiny voice in his mind hissed that perhaps they _weren't_ lovers, but he quickly squashed the thought. They'd slept together, she'd made him breakfast, she'd even _apologized_ for the marks she'd enjoyed making on him after he'd been bothered by them.

_Get a grip, Gold._ He chided himself. _Stop acting like it wasn't the best thing ever and suck it up. It's apparently only an issue to you._

That bothered him the most. His sweet Belle had been the last person he'd expect to just jump into things; take them into her own hands, literally. She simply _hadn't _been that person when he'd known her, and yet here she was, all teeth and urgency and complete lack of regard. As if he'd been a vessel to fill a need.

He was brooding by the time he toweled himself off and got dressed. He knew he was being ridiculous; he was being a grumpy, old fashioned gentleman who couldn't adapt to the casualness Belle was exuding toward him. He was _pouting, _and all because Belle wasn't the innocent little blue-eyed maiden he'd remembered her being, and their first time together hadn't gone as expected_. _

_Should be grateful. _His self-loathing hissed as he looked at himself in the mirror. _That any woman would look at that and want you, let alone someone like Belle. Stop being a stubborn fool and count your blessings._

* * *

Belle had finished making breakfast and was waiting at the kitchen table for him when he emerged fully dressed in one of his immaculate suits a while later. He took his place at the table across from her, determined to stop whining and start treating her like a woman who, for better or worse, had woken up next to him that morning and had only run as far as the kitchen after realizing what they'd done.

"Your phone rang a bunch when you were showering," She said conversationally when he sat down, her tone tight. She was clearly waiting for him to berate her for his various contusions, but he refused to bring them up. He'd said _later_, not _right away, _and to mention them would end his decision to not brood before it had even begun _._

He shrugged lightly, making a split second but easy decision before speaking. "Let it ring. I'm taking the day off." She eyed him until he looked at her, and he cut her off before she could speak. "Worst businessman ever, alright, but I'm allowed a day off now and then."

_Besides, you'd have to threaten me with worse than gunpoint to make me leave your side today._ He thought wryly. _Not a chance._

She raised her eyebrows, a hidden little emotion flitting behind her eyes. "What's the occasion?"

_National holiday, _he thought dryly, enjoying his dark inner monologue. _That someone like you would ever want to look at someone like me._

"No occasion." He lied. "Why? Did you have something in mind?"

The little emotion crept to the forefront , changing and expressing itself as eagerness. She toyed with her food for a moment before putting her fork down and giving him a hopeful little smile.

"Well, I had an idea…" She hedged, squirming in her seat.

"Let's hear it." He replied, amused at how much work it was obviously taking her to not blurt whatever it was out.

"Well, you're always cooped up in your house or your shop or with your work. You should have some _fun_ for once."

He looked at her in surprise. "My dear Belle, I wouldn't know how to begin to have fun in this town."

She was unperturbed. "Let me return the favor, then. Let _me_ take _you _out."

He raised his eyebrows, unable to help the smile that crossed his face unbidden. "You'd like that? Taking me out?"

She rolled her eyes at the awed tone in his voice, giving him a coy little smile before gathering up their dishes and heading to the kitchen. "Don't sound so eager, Gold. It's not like it's a date."

"Oh," He said, swallowing his disappointment by adding mischeviously. "Well, good. Then I won't have to be forty five minutes late for it. That saves me a lot of time."

* * *

He knew he was getting more than he bargained for when Belle grabbed the back of the long black woolen coat he'd put on to stop him from going to his car. She steered him down the street, and he had to do an elaborate little dance that his leg argued against to free himself from her grasp.

"We can't drive?" He complained once he'd regained the ability to walk normally beside her. "Fun couldn't possibly have been hiding within walking distance this whole time."

"Oh," She said mischievously, leaning in so her shoulder pressed against his and lowering her voice. "But it has. Close your eyes."

"Belle," He complained when she covered his eyes with her hand. Walking was already a dubious prospect most days with his limp, and his body panicked at the loss of sight. She stilled his hands when he reached up to remove her arm. "Belle, I don't like this. You're going to drag me around all day with your hand over my eyes?"

"Don't be silly," She retorted, and she put a steadying hand on his arm to guide him but didn't remove the one over his eyes. "What would people think? I'm just hiding the way to the first destination from you."

He snorted, but didn't argue further as she led him down the sidewalk. He tried to count the steps to discern where they were by how long they'd been walking, but his guesses were poor at best. He tried to remember the shops that were down his street, and was dismayed when he couldn't recall their order.

She jostled him down the street for a few minutes before turning abruptly into a store, and the door had shut behind them before Belle finally removed her hand from his eyes. He blinked, half-blind from the sudden light, and barked a laugh when he finally was able to see.

"It's a little early for ice cream, Belle," He teased, but he followed her up to the counter when she grabbed him by the elbow.

"Never too early for ice cream," She complained, and she looked to the young man behind the counter and blinked her big blue eyes sweetly at him. "Is it?"

The young man looked frozen somewhere between awe and mortification as he looked at the two of them, and Gold could see that the teenaged girl behind the register bore an identical look. The young man coughed before finally composing himself, his hand shaking as he held up an ice cream scoop.

"Never too early," He agreed wholeheartedly, voice trembling, and Belle nudged Gold with her elbow.

"See?" She teased. "Aren't you glad I'm here to show you how to have fun? It starts with ice cream at nine in the morning. Obviously."

Belle stepped up to the counter, eyeing all the flavors with intruigue before selecting a cone of cookie dough, and when she and the young man looked to Gold he held up his hands.

"Oh no, this is _your_ idea. Pick for me."

Belle hesitated for only a second. "Strawberry."

"_Strawberry?" _Gold sputtered, upset. "A man doesn't get strawberry flavored ice cream."

She ignored him, looking instead to the young man. Gold noticed with irritation that while the boy was clearly fearful of him, he hadn't taken his eyes off Belle since she'd walked up to the counter and the gleam in his eyes made Gold bristle. Belle seemed not to notice as she gave him a smile.

"He'll have strawberry. In a cone. With a cherry on top." She finally turned to Gold, raising her eyebrows sweetly. "Or did you have some more issues with my choice? I can put whipped cream and sprinkles on there, too."

He glared at her, but accepted the offered cone when it was handed to him without another complaint, putting a hand out to stop her when she walked up to the register.

"I own the shop, Belle. We don't have to pay." The young woman behind the register looked about to collapse with relief when they turned away from her, and Gold swallowed a dark snigger at her expression.

Belle distracted him from his dark thoughts when she turned and looked at him with wide eyes. "You own an ice cream shop, and you don't _live _here?"

He snorted, leading her over to one of the window tables and sitting across from her. "When I first bought the place, I came here quite often. But I haven't been here to do anything but collect rent in years." He was surprised by the pout in his own voice, but it made Belle giggle.

"Favorite flavor?" She asked. "If you've tried them all, you must have one."

He delicately pulled the cherry off of his cone by the stem and offered it to her. "And not give you the chance to guess? Unlikely."

"Chocolate?" She asked.

Gold was about to reply before he noticed the young man behind the counter still watching Belle and he narrowed his eyes, feeling jealousy bubble up in his veins. He pulled his hand back when Belle reached for the cherry.

"Nope," He purred, and instead reached forward and delicately traced her lips with the cherry, offering it to her again. "Guess again."

Her eyes widened at his brazen, seductive teasing, and a blush crept over her soft cheekbones before she slowly detached the cherry from its stem with her teeth. She made a show of eating the thing, turning his bones to jelly as she did, and for a moment he was exceptionally grateful to his jealous side for allowing him to instigate such a show.

"Now I'm not sure I want to know," She murmured, watching him suspiciously, and he waited until she moved her gaze to the window to turn his head and meet the young man's gaze, a smug little smirk crossing his lips when the teens face turned beet red and he quickly turned away, disappearing into the back of the shop.

Gold turned back around, his smug expression faltering when he saw Belle glaring at him, and he immediately felt his own face redden.

"Seriously?" She hissed under her breath at him. "I knew something was going on, but…_really_, Gold?"

"What?" He said, trying and failing for nonchalance. Belle just rolled her eyes and made a little snort of disbelief.

"Nothing. I just didn't realize the Beast of Storybrooke would ever stoop to _that_ level."

He was embarrassed to have been caught, but he stretched out his legs out under the table in a great showing of languid arrogance, about to speak before a big clump of ice cream flopped off of his cone and directly onto his lap. He yelped, cursing under his breath, and Belle exploded into laughter. He glared at her, swiping at the sticky pink mess before Belle grabbed his hand and stopped him.

"Can we get some napkins?" She called to the young woman behind the register, who was immediately at their side with two fistfuls of them. She reached out and took them from her offered hands.

"Thanks," She purred, giving the girl a wink. "I'd lick it off, of course, but we're in public."

Gold's cone somehow found itself crushed in his hand, and the rest of his untouched ice cream flopped down onto the floor, neither of which he noticed. He gawked at Belle as she leaned forward and dabbed at his pants with the napkin. When the girl scrambled away, Belle glanced up and gave him a conspiratorial wink.

"If you're going to stoop to that level, Gold, do it right. None of this cliché sexy cherry business."

* * *

After the ice cream shop she led him outside and he followed her dutifully down the street, fully aware that he was blatantly staring and too in awe of her to care.

"Okay," He conceded, grinning when she looked over her shoulder and gave him a sly little smile. "Now I'm having fun. What's next?"

Belle reached her hand back, waiting for him to take it before pointing down the street to a sign for a clothing boutique. "Do you own that shop, too?" She asked innocently.

"Yes," He said without a thought, and then he narrowed his eyes in suspicion when she stopped at the window to admire the male mannequin display, which was wearing loose jeans and a short-sleeved button-up shirt that showed too much skin. "Why?"

She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look that he didn't believe for a second. "Well, those pants are ruined. We're much too far from home to just pick up new ones."

He knew that if he turned around he would still be able to see the sign for his shop down the street, but he begrudgingly humored her.

"Fine." He let her lead him inside, and tried to remember to make his unruffled, withering expression when Belle weaved through the displays and dragged him to one of the clerks, who was folding clothes with her back to them.

"Excuse me," She said politely. "But my companion is in need of some new pants, after an unfortunate accident. Jeans, please."

He gave her points for being unbothered when the clerk, a college-aged girl with short black hair, turned and shrieked at the sight of him.

"Oh," She stammered once she'd composed herself, staring at Belle as if the hand she had wrapped around Gold's wrist was instead lying between the open jaws of a crocodile. She looked up at Gold with wide eyes, clearly trying to remember her manners. "Um. What style?"

Belle laughed at his blank stare, shooing him. "We'll find you pants, Gold. You go get comfortable. It looks like the dressing rooms are in the back."

He had just opened the door to the fitting room when he heard Belle chirp conversationally to the clerk, "You know, as long as we're here, we may as well get something that _matches_ the pants. Just for kicks, as long as he's in there. His attire could use a woman's touch."

He groaned, feeling the trap she'd set spring around him. Trying to remember his patience, he settled himself in to wait.

* * *

Two hours later Belle slid yet another outfit over the door to him, and he finally put his foot down.

"Belle, where do you keep finding new clothes?" He growled, pushing it back over. "I must have tried on every single thing in the store by now." He eyed the pile of clothes stacked on the chair dubiously. He had to admit, the clothes she'd picked had suited him even if they weren't something he'd normally choose for himself. They were all soft, elegant fabrics and designs; casual but sophisticated, and he admired her taste. Long-sleeved sweaters, dark jeans, jackets, all in styles that he'd turned down without thought until Belle had seen them and gushed with compliments, and he wasn't sure if he liked them because _she _did or because after a second look he'd appreciated them more. Even the clerk had settled down and approved of a few, going beyond the murmurs of agreement that he recognized immediately as fake to smiling and nodding, which embarrassed him.

It had quite a lot of goading from Belle to make Gold open the door and show them each outfit, and the woman's eyes had immediately flown to the exposed bruises and love marks on his neck and collarbone. He noted sourly while hiding in the fitting room afterwards that _Belle_ also had a love mark, just one, in the hollow of her throat, but the woman clearly had assumed it had been a younger, more attractive man that had given it to her and not himself.

It had taken another ten minutes for Belle to convince them both to continue after Gold slammed the door shut in horror and the young woman had taken off in the opposite direction, thinking it had been the sight of him in non-suits that had embarrassed them both, not the way the girl had looked between himself and Belle and, he had noticed sourly, her engagement ring, as if they had committed some perverse war crime.

"Just one more," She pleaded, standing on tiptoe to peek at him over the door, wiggling the hanger at him with one of her heart-melting looks. "Promise."

"Do you really think I'm ever going to wear these clothes?" He complained, grabbing the last outfit; a dark grey long-sleeved shirt that she'd paired with a soft brown leather jacket and dark jeans. He snorted in feigned disgust.

"Yes." She said, dropping out of sight when he pulled his shirt over his head and began to change. "Because I'm going to burn your old clothes."

"What's wrong with my old clothes?" He growled. "They're brand new."

"Just because they still have the tags on doesn't make them new. Your _old_ clothes are _old _and out of style. These will look much better." She sounded so proud of herself that Gold didn't have the energy left to argue.

"Even my suits?" He griped, surprised and a little embarrassed when she immediately responded on the other side of the door.

"No, I like the suits. They look good on you. The suits can stay." He could see her feet turn towards the clerks from under the door. "Don't you think he looks good in suits? So _dominating."_

Gold pulled on the jacket and nudged open the door, making Belle pull it open the rest of the way to save the young clerk from having to answer her. Belle cooed with pleasure at the sight of him.

"That looks great! I'll live up to my word. We're done." She nudged past him to grab a black leather belt from one of the hooks inside the fitting room and handed it to him with one of her harder sells; a pair of lightweight black winter boots. He'd lost the argument against those after refusing to elaborate on his comment that he'd worn enough boots for ten lifetimes, and she'd forced him to get them in response to his silence. "Now put these on, and we can leave."

"What?" He sputtered, looking at himself in the mirror as if she'd draped a venomous snake over his shoulders rather than new clothes. The marks on his neck were obvious in the v-neck of the shirt, and he wondered if she didn't notice them or didn't care that they were visible. "In public?"

"Yes, Gold. They're just clothes." She said, frustrated. She came up beside him, watching him watch her in the mirror. She leaned up to whisper in his ear, her voice a delicious little purr. "Plus, two can make a game of petty, cliché showings of jealousy. Like it or not, the marks are there, and I _like_ to see them on you. Won't you let me have my fun and show them off?"

He hastened to put on the belt and boots without another word, adding that comment to the ever-growing list of things about her that he wasn't sure he was pleased, amused, aroused, or alarmed by.

"I think I prefer the cherry," He mumbled nervously in response.

* * *

They made a quick trip back to the shop to drop off the large bags of his clothes, and an hour later they were seated outside at a little café on the water having lunch. Belle was looking pleased with herself, smirking smugly at Gold, and he finally looked over and gave her the satisfaction she was had been fishing for since they left the boutique.

"Fine." He growled in defeat. "They're nice clothes. Now stop grinning, you're going to hurt yourself."

She leaned back slowly, taking a sip from her tea. "Knew it. You _like_ them."

"I don't even know how you figured out my sizes without asking," He complained, sidetracking her, and he nearly dropped his cup in surprise when she avoided his gaze. He leaned forward slowly, eyes narrowing. "Did you _plan_ this?!"

She looked away, unable to completely hide the smugness in her smile. "Slow as ever, Mr. Gold."

He leaned forward, about to offer a pithy remark before Belle's eyes widened and she looked at someone over his shoulder, her mouth dropping open in surprise. Gold turned in his chair.

"Sheriff Swan," He said conversationally. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Emma eyed the two of them warily, eyebrow raised. A cup of coffee was steaming in her hand, her keys dangling from her fingers, and it was obvious she'd run into them by chance.

"You two seem to be getting along," She said dryly, indicating her own neck. Gold felt himself blush. "That took what, five minutes?"

"That's really none of your business, Sheriff." Gold growled, glancing to Belle and seeing her face redden with embarrassment. He noted that, for the first time, she seemed capable of that emotion. He wondered vaguely if she regretted her decision to flaunt the marks now that she was under the judgmental eye of a familiar face.

"Actually, it kind of is." He opened his eyes to see her sitting backwards on the chair, her arms folded over the backrest. She was looking at Belle. "Richard has done nothing but complain and talk about you since we put him in jail. Been a real pain, with the cells being in the office. Bastard never seems to sleep."

"Yes, well." Gold said darkly, bringing Emma's attention back to him. "Comes with the job, and I'm sure you'll get used to it."

"Why?" She asked. "He was released this morning."

Gold stood so fast his chair fell behind him with a loud crash.

"_What?" _He snarled. "He hurt her, Emma. He threatened her. And you just let him out?"

Emma gave him a hard look. "What was I supposed to do, Gold? Keep him away in there forever for a bruised arm? It looks like you two have done worse to each other already, albeit hopefully in different circumstances. Care to spend three nights in jail over it?"

Belle spoke up quietly, clearing her throat. She looked pale. "Is he—Is he home?"

Emma looked back over to her and shrugged. "I don't know. I just let him out. It looked like he got a ride from someone, but I don't know who or where they went."

"Should we be worried?" Gold asked. "Retaliation, or something? Did he make any threats?"

Emma leaned back and sighed. "I don't know. It doesn't hurt to be careful. A jealous fiancé is nothing to screw around with. Especially," She said, reaching a hand out and tapping her fingernail against Belle's ring. "If you insist on keeping that thing on."

She stood to leave but Gold grabbed her arm, suddenly remembering something. "Miss Swan," He said slowly, and Emma sat back down. "When you were trying so hard to arrest me before, you said it was because Belle had bruises on her arms. From me." Emma nodded, looking confused.

"I don't see how that's relevant, but yeah. And you denied hurting her. What about it?"

"Belle didn't have any bruises when she came to see me."

"She had them when I saw her that night." Emma said, and they both turned to look at Belle, whose tea had suddenly become intensely interesting. There was an awkward moment of silence before Emma abruptly stood, patting Gold on the back.

"Well, I can see you two have a lot to talk about. I'll let you get to that."

Gold watched Emma get into her cruiser and drive away before he fixed Belle with a hard stare that she shrunk away from.

"Belle." He said slowly, and she squirmed beneath his gaze. He felt ill, and that was making him furious. "Where did you get the bruises from?" He leaned forward when she didn't respond, needing to ask. His voice was a choked whisper, his pain breaking through his building rage. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." She said quietly after a moment. "Richard did."

Gold was out of his chair, cursing, when Belle snapped a hand out and stopped him. His theatrics had caught the attention of everyone nearby, but neither of them seemed to notice as Belle hissed at him. "I scared the shit out of him, Gold. I was gone for so long that night, he was worried sick. And then I showed up with your blood all over me, unwilling to tell him where I'd been or what had happened. He didn't mean to hurt me, he was just holding onto me, trying to get me to calm down. When I changed that night, he saw the bruises and he lost his mind all over again, thinking that they were from you. What was I supposed to tell him, that he'd done it in his terrified frenzy?"

"So you just let him believe that I'd done it?" He asked, furious. Belle glared at him, looking as if he'd struck her.

"No. I told him they absolutely weren't from you. That you wouldn't hurt me. Because you _wouldn't._"

"What makes you so sure?" He growled. "You don't know what I'm capable of, Belle."

"It's not in you." She said, so quietly that it took him by surprise. "Why do you think I'm so comfortable around you, Gold? Because as much as you stalk around, being the monster of everyone's nightmares; there isn't a single ounce of you that would hurt someone without cause. And the way you look at me—the way you've looked at me since that first time outside the grocery store, makes me believe that for whatever reason there isn't a cause in the world that would make hurting me worth what it would cost you."

He gawked at her, slowly sitting down before he wrapped both hands around his teacup and looked away. His body was radiating tension, and he wanted so badly to believe her words.

"You're right that I have my reasons. You're very perceptive, Belle, but I'm called a monster for a reason." He dropped his gaze to his lap, his words dripping with self-loathing. "And you'd do best to not forget that about me, no matter how safe I make you feel."

_Not a second time._

She reached out and touched his hand, gently easing it away from his cup and threading her fingertips between his. Her voice was sincere, and it broke his heart.

"I trust you, Gold."

He pulled his hand away, unable to stomach her words. He couldn't keep the self-hatred from his voice, no matter how he tried to disguise it.

"Don't ever say that."

"Why?" She demanded. "Is it the same reason why I can't call you Rump—"

He slammed the teacup down on the table, the scalding liquid a dull, distant pain on his fingers as he stood, trying to ignore the alarm in her wide blue eyes. "Let's get out of here, Belle. I'm tired of talking."

* * *

Belle had to jog to catch up to him when he didn't wait for her, and she had to reach out and grab his hand to stop him.

"Gold," She said, pleadingly. "Please, wait. I'm sorry-"

"It's fine, Belle." He growled. "Just drop it." He began to walk again, needing the motion to work through his dark mood. He tried to remove his hand from Belle's but she tangled their fingers together, matching his stride, and he closed his eyes briefly to swallow the annoyance at her persistence. He steeled himself, waiting for an incessant apology for pushing him too far or for her to angrily storm away once she realized he was in no mood to be sociable.

It took him several blocks to realize that Belle wasn't going to try to coax him out of his dark thoughts. She simply held his hand while they walked, letting him lead them mindlessly down the sidewalk, unbothered and endlessly patient. She disarmed his anger when he glanced over at her a while later, giving him a little smile and squeezing his hand gently.

Her gentle kindness eventually worked its way through his brooding, replacing it with guilt and when they turned a corner and found themselves at main street he stopped and turned to her.

"I have my demons, Belle, and I _am_ a monster." He said without preamble, and it was a testament to her patience when she simply waited for him to continue without reacting to his words. He squeezed her hand gently, needing for her to understand. "I've done horrible, unspeakable things; things that I don't want to remember; things that you shouldn't ever forget. I shouldn't let the past blind me the present. I've been a fool, and I'm sorry."

"_Everyone_ has demons, Gold. I don't pretend to know yours." She replied, raising a hand and brushing his hair back with gentle fingers. "But all I see when I look at you is a kind-hearted man who has been fighting his for too long."

"Belle," He began, searching for words, suddenly feeling guilty for ruining their day. He took both her hands in his and gave her a hesitant smile. "A monster like me doesn't deserve a woman like you. Thank you."

She gave him a beautiful little half smile. "You aren't a monster, Gold. You just think that you are."

He shook his head, taking her hand in his and resuming their walk at a more casual pace. "You are absolutely unbelievable, Belle."

She nodded. "I know."

They walked in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again, realizing he had no idea where they were going, but that she'd been walking with purpose for a while. He dragged himself back to the present, determined to return them to the lighthearted mood they'd shared all day. "So, how is this day of fun ending?"

She smiled sweetly at him, mentally ahead of him as always as she lead him across the street. "Granny's, obviously. The only thing Storybrooke has that even begins to constitute nightlife."

"More food?" He complained teasingly. "All we've done today is eat."

"Dessert and drinks, obviously." She rolled her eyes at him. "Honestly, Gold. You should be glad that I'm here."

* * *

The burning dryness in Gold's throat brought him slowly to consciousness, and it wasn't until he rolled over to alleviate the sensation and his face met with rough, unfamiliar fabric that he realized he had no idea how he'd come to end up there. Or where _there_ was. He groaned, clenching his eyes shut and trying to force sleep back upon himself, to no avail. He instead forced his groggy brain to dredge up the events from the past night.

He and Belle had shared a piece of cheesecake. He'd remembered that much. And then, one of them had gotten a flowery, fruity drink. He was certain it was her, but he couldn't remember if she'd gotten it or if she'd just ordered it for him. After that, they'd gotten into an argument, which had let to her ordering them shots, and he'd been so impressed with her shouting down their bartender for them that_…fuck._

He opened his eyes the tiniest bit, trying to figure out where he was, but the world was entirely too bright and he clenched his eyes shut again with a whimper and tugged the blanket that was draped around his waist up over his head. Belle whined in protest somewhere behind him, and a moment later her freezing toes pressed against the backs of his thighs as she snuggled closer. He flinched away from her touch, his teeth chattering, and rolled over to warm her properly.

Her groggy blue eyes watched him from under the sheet, blinking at him in the semi-darkness. She seemed just as confused as he was.

"Where are we?" She mumbled.

"I don't know." He whispered honestly. Belle was the brave one, visibly steeling herself before poking her head out of the sheet.

"Living room." She mumbled. "Next to the couch. Why are your sheets in the living room?"

"I don't know," He repeated, his head throbbing. "But they should relocate themselves to the bed, immediately."

It wasn't until Belle tugged the sheet off of him and wrapped it around herself to stumble to his bedroom that he realized neither of them were wearing more than their underclothes. The rough surface his cheek had encountered appeared to be the jeans he'd purchased the day before wrapped into a makeshift pillow, and he held them modestly over himself as he followed her back to the bedroom. She had already discarded the sheets onto the floor in favor of the bed and his thick comforter, teeth chattering. He slid in behind her, wrapping his cold arms around her and pressing his cold chest against her back, hoping that, logically, he'd eventually warm her.

"So much for opening the shop on time," She grumbled, and he chuckled low in his throat.

They lay together half-asleep until the rays of sunlight coming between his shades shifted and began to hurt his eyes. He growled half-heartedly, rolling onto his back, and that roused Belle enough to roll over and curl against his side. Her hand brushed down his chest before beginning to idly trace the scar tissue at his hip, making him squirm and wrap an arm around her waist, trapping her wandering hand against him.

She leaned up undeterred, tracing his jaw with her lips, and he turned his head and kissed her tenderly. When his lips lingered she lifted herself up over him on her elbows and bit his ear just enough to set his nerve endings on fire, her nails scraping against his hip with renewed intentions. He vaguely became aware of the same painful soreness that had plagued him the morning before as he tensed beside her, but worse and in new spots, and he leaned away from her to glance down at himself under the sheets. There were all new marks across his chest, ribs, and abdomen, and he looked back at Belle with bewilderment.

"Did we..?"

She nodded. "You don't remember?" He shook his head, and it elicited a giggle from her that try as he might, he couldn't get her to explain. She leaned over him again, her breasts pressing against his chest, and it took all of his resolve to gently push her away. He could feel the hurt and confusion rolling off of her in waves as he held her against his side, but she didn't try to touch him again.

"Belle," He rasped after a few minutes of silence and staring at the ceiling cleared his head enough to think. "We can't keep doing this."

She scooted forward and rested her cheek on his shoulder, pouting. "Why not?"

"There are a lot of reasons," He grumbled, rubbing at his face in frustration. He wasn't sure if it was at his self-restraint, her lack thereof, or the situation as a whole. "The first of all being that we haven't been particularly careful. What if-"

She snorted, interrupting him. "I'm on the pill, Gold. I'm not a fool. Next objection?"

There _were _a lot of reasons, but there weren't many that wouldn't upset her. It wasn't until she gently traced the fading bite mark on his shoulder that he spoke again, deciding that he needed be completely honest if they were going to continue. "You keep hurting me."

She stilled for a moment before responding. "You've decided how you feel about that?"

"It _hurts_, Belle. Can't you just be a little bit more gentle? Teeth and nails are fine in moderation, if that's what you enjoy, but…" He trailed off, glancing down at her.

Belle's expression was unreadable, and she hesitated for a moment before replying blandly. "Next?"

With nowhere else to go in his argument and his decision to be honest with her weighing on him, he gently held up the hand that was tracing his chest, brushing his thumb against the engagement ring that rested on her finger as she tensed beside him. "This, Belle. Most of all, this."

Belle's expression shifted from careful blankness to guarded discomfort in an instant, and she drew her hand away from his touch.

"Let's not have this talk right now." Her tone was hard.

That was _not _the response he'd been expecting, and her sudden coldness frightened him. Every suspicion and fear he'd swallowed the morning before came back with terrible clarity, making him feel ill.

"Why not?" He asked, doing his best to not let the sudden panic pounding in his veins betray him through his voice. He reached for her hand, but her fingers slid from between his when he tried to squeeze. "Belle-?"

She was on the other side of the bed in an instant, grabbing a discarded shirt from the floor and pulling it over her head before she spoke.

"Gold," She said, her voice weary. "I have a terrible hangover, my head is throbbing. I just want to shower. Can we talk about this later? Please?"

He watched her leave the room in shock, waiting until the shower turned on check the time. It was only just after eleven in the morning. He hastily dressed, blind to the suit that he dragged from his closet and put on. He made his way into the living room but he could still hear the shower running, and his mind was consumed by the realization that she was going to come out and tell him the truth; that she was using him to fill a need, just as she'd used his presence to keep the nightmares at bay, and probably break him in half by telling him it was just _casual_ and to stop being so old-fashioned about it.

He didn't realize he'd run until he found himself sitting in his shop, the door unlocked and his work spread out before him at his perch. His mind throbbed, and he had no memory of how he'd come to end up there.

_Once a coward, always a coward. _His mind hissed at him, and for once he was only too eager to agree.

* * *

He was composed by the time he heard Belle on the stairs an hour later.

"Hey," She said hesitantly at his elbow. He glanced at her with a carefully neutral expression before returning to his work, and she placed a cup of tea at his wrist. "You decided to open the shop?"

He ignored her offering. "Yes. Yes I did."

"Gold…" She began, and he shook his head. She hovered there for a moment, uncomfortable, until the bell over the door chimed and they both looked up.

"Well well," Regina purred as she approached, looking between the two of them. "Looks like the rumors are true."

"Regina," Gold said in dismay as he slowly stood. "I thought I told you that when I needed to talk to you, I'd find you. You'd think that the threat of that conversation would be enough to keep you away."

Regina sauntered over, hands in the pockets of her black blazer. She stopped on the other side of the glass partition.

"Goodness, Mr. Gold. So testy this morning." She reached over the counter for his tea and delicately took a sip. "What's wrong, trouble in paradise?"

He glared at her. "Regina, get out. I've got nothing to say to you."

She raised her eyebrows at him over the teacup, placing it gently back on the counter and quirking up her lips in a malicious little smile.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not here for you, then, isn't it?"

His menacing stance hesitated for a moment and when Regina's eyes left his, he followed them over to Belle, who was watching Regina with surprise.

"Me?" She asked, confused. "What could you possibly need of me?"

Regina leaned back on her heels, her smile fading. She looked affronted by Belle's question.

"Rent, my dear girl. Or have you forgotten your home so quickly after shacking up with the town beast?"

"Rent?" Belle's voice rose an octave. "But Richard has always-"

Regina cut her off. "I don't rent to criminals, you silly little thing. They can't be expected to pay their rent on time. It's very plain right there in the lease that bears your signature. When Mr. Blanc was released from jail yesterday, he was all too happy to relinquish his legal right to your home. That leaves you responsible for the rent, which is late." She quirked an eyebrow. "Or didn't you _read_ the lease before you _signed _it_?"_

Belle paled. "I—It was so long ago, I don't remember."

Regina cut her off. "It's none of my concern, girl. Now let's get back to the matter at hand, foremost being that I don't accept excuses as a form of payment. " She watched Belle smugly as the brunette struggled for something to say.

"Regina," Gold growled, taking a step towards her. It didn't matter how upset he was, how badly Belle had hurt him. _No one_ frightened her, especially not Regina. "The girl clearly doesn't have your money, so stop staring at her as if she's hiding it in her pocket and just tell me how much she owes—"

Regina snapped her attention over to him, and he faltered in his steps when she closed the distance between them in an instant.

"Oh, Rumple." She crooned gleefully when they were nose to nose. "What the girl owes me and what _you_ will owe me once I tag on a substantial fee are entirely different matters." She smiled. "How about triple her rent and one little favor, and I'll forgive this month's rent? Hmm?"

Gold narrowed his eyes at her. The money wasn't an issue, but a vague favor like the one she was asking for could spell untold trouble.

"Wait." Belle said, her hands fidgeting, and the two of them looked over to her. "Wait. It's not fair for him to pay my rent. I'm not going to be a burden on you, Gold."

"Belle—"

"Smart girl," Regina purred. "So I assume you'll be writing me a check?"

"I need time." Belle said, her voice trembling despite her unruffled bearing. "I don't have the money."

Regina's gleeful expression faded. "My dear girl, that isn't part of the bargain."

The corners of her lips twitched with restrained emotion. "Then make it part of it, or you're just going to have to evict me, which I also don't have the money to pay for."

Regina brushed the sleeves of her blazer delicately as she considered, and Gold could see the wickedness gleaming behind her eyes.

"Maybe we can come up with something. A deal."

"No." Gold argued, putting himself between Belle and Regina. "No, I won't let you make a deal with her, Regina. I won't let her put herself in your debt anymore than she already is."

"Gold," Belle complained from behind him. "It's not your decision."

"Your girl is right, Mr. Gold," Regina smoothly replied. "This has absolutely nothing to do with you." She leaned forward and gave him a wicked little smile. "Now. Step. Aside."

Gold didn't move until Belle's gentle hand on his shoulder had him side-stepping to let her pass. Belle raised her chin to look Regina in the eye.

"What do you want?" She asked.

Regina considered for a moment before a slow little smile crossed her pouty lips. She took a slow, deep breath, threading her fingers together and fixing Belle with a look that would have been pleasant if it hadn't been full of such hidden menace, much like a snake charming a bird.

"As you can imagine, I'm quite busy with my mayoral duties, and I find that the basic needs of my home; cooking, cleaning, dusting, laundry, pulling weeds…"

"No." Gold growled, but Regina ignored him.

"…sometimes go wanting. In exchange for time, you'll spend your days at my estate busying yourself with such tasks until I receive my payment. From when I leave for work until I get back. Six days a week."

Belle hesitated at her offer. "How am I supposed to pay you back if I'm spending my days at your home?"

"That sound s like a personal problem to me, dear. If you can't come up with the payment before the next month's is due, we'll continue our little arrangement, but you'll owe me more." Regina responded, a bit of ice interspersed between the sickly-sweet tone of her voice. She held out a hand. "Let's call it a favor, for now. Do we have a deal?"

Belle hesitated. "And when I want to leave?"

Regina laughed softly. "Oh, nothing gets by you, does it? Your lease is up in three months, and you'll have the option to renew or cancel it. Until then, the contact is binding, and you aren't going to get a better offer from me. Now i'll ask again. For the final time, do we have a deal?"

Belle reached a hand out before Gold could stop her, grasping Regina's and shaking it. Gold exploded with fury.

"NO!" He shouted, running his hands through his hair and pacing the length of the shop once with long, quick strides. "No. Belle, you don't understand what you've just done. Let me pay her off for you. You don't want to be in her debt-"

Regina stepped in his path, stopping his pacing. She gave him a sweet little smile.

"It's too late for that, Rumple. The option to pay me off is off the table. The deal," She held up a hand, pinching her thumb and forefinger together and giving her hand a flourish that made his skin crawl. "Has been struck."

* * *

The door shut behind Regina before Belle turned to Gold, and whatever she was about to say was lost when he grabbed the tea tray she'd brought down and flung it across the room with a worldless snarl. The porcelain and silver set exploded against the wall, but it didn't make him feel any better. He vaguely registered Belle's surprised cry before he blindly grabbed something else off the counter and threw it, too. He'd destroyed half the items resting on the display case before Belles hand wrapped around his wrist to stop him, and he turned to her with a wild-eyed expression.

"Do you realize what you've just done?!" He snarled, ripping his arm from her grasp, chest heaving. She glared at him.

"I've just saved myself from debt—"

"Oh, you haven't yet begun to understand debt, dearie!" He screamed. "You'll never get out from beneath the deal you've just struck. _Never_. What job are you going to find in the next three weeks that will allow you to pay your rent on time without working daylight hours? Answer me that!"

Belle took a step back. "I'll find a way-"

"And now I can't get you out of this when you realize what you've done." He continued unperturbed, panting with his efforts. "I can't raise a finger to help you because that witch put it in the deal. I'm bound, Belle, and I am the only one who could have helped you out of this mess." He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're a fool, Belle, to think that you understood-"

Her palm collided with the side of his face before he finished speaking, and he stumbled back against one of the display cases at the force of the open-handed slap. He raised a hand to his cheek and stared at her in shock, speechless, and she glared at him through the furious tears in her eyes.

"Gold," She hissed, her voice just above a whisper. It trembled as she spoke. "Don't you ever assume that you know a damn thing about me. You _don't_. How dare you tell me what I'm capable of, or what I can and can't do. This is _my_ life, _my _decisions, and if you can't respect that, then you need to stay the hell out of it."

He gawked at her, speechless, until she turned on her heel and headed to the door.

"Belle," He cried weakly. "Where are you going?"

"Home." She snarled, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

**Wow, the response to the last chapter was ove****rwhelming! Thank you so much for the feedback, and I hope everybody continues to enjoy the story. More to come and again, please review/follow/favorite if you're enjoying the ride!**


	10. Chapter 10

Gold regretted his decision to not chase her down more and more as every hour passed.

He'd been furious at first; still too wound up over her foolish decision to make a deal with Regina rather than let him help her. Too angry and hurt about her refusal to speak to him about the ring; too upset that she'd struck him. He'd initially thought he'd just let her go, that she'd calm down and come back after realizing that he'd only meant to keep her safe.

_What if she got lost on the way home? What if she didn't have her keys? Does she even have food at her house? _The questions plagued him; buzzing in his mind and demanding to be answered, but he had no answers to give. He'd called an hour after she left to make sure she'd made it back, but after two rings she'd rejected the call. His anger had swelled again, he'd thrown the phone on the couch and snarled, pacing about in his living room and telling himself that _she_ was being the fool, not him. He was just trying to help.

When he'd called at midnight, finally repentant enough to drop his pride and apologize, her phone had been off. He'd debated many things; calling Emma, driving over and seeing for himself, even if it meant peeking through her windows. But she was right; he didn't know a damn thing about her, not really. If he showed up at her door, it would just be proving to her that he thought her incapable of taking care of herself, and he was still too upset with her to keep his anger in check. In the end, he'd settled down to wait.

He had to mount a minor expedition to retrieve it, but he finally dug his phone out from between the cushions of the couch where it had landed the night before, disappointed when he saw that he had no new messages. Assuring himself that he couldn't have had cell reception with his phone so deeply buried, he tried calling her again. Her phone was still off, and the generic automated tone for her voicemail made him reluctant to leave a message. He paused for a moment after the tone, opening his mouth to speak, but eventually hung up without a word.

He finally cracked at noon, giving up and deciding to go looking for her. It wasn't until he turned to lock the door to the shop that he realized she had the keys for the damned door. He stood there grinding his teeth and weighing his options before finally going back inside, slamming the door behind him. The hundreds of trinkets on display had trembled, jingling and clinking in protest.

_If she wanted to talk to you, Gold, she would have._ He argued with himself. _She's angry with you for sticking your pointy nose into her life, and if you go looking for her that's exactly what you're doing again. You aren't going to get answers out of her by making demands. Let it go._

It took every last shred of his patience to sit down behind the counter again and pick up his work.

He kept the shop open later than usual under the guise of cleaning, but at eight that night he finally gave in and closed up the shop. Belle was well and truly furious with him, and without his keys to lock up he was stuck adhering to her whims until she decided to come back or he had the time to get a spare set made; whichever came first.

He was returning to the door to lock it when a shadow caught his eye; a familiar feminine shape with long hair silhouetted by the streetlight as it passed over one set of drapes. He was lunging at the door and throwing it open before the thought had even crossed his mind, all pretense of patience gone. She was here, and she was _going to talk to him, damnit._

Belle screamed in surprise when he came barreling out into the night, nearly knocking both of them off their feet when his foot hit a patch of frost outside the door and threw him off balance He slammed into her, and it was only her quick reflexes that kept them from tumbling unceremoniously into the road.

"Christ, Gold!" She shrieked, holding him up as he struggled to regain his balance. He could feel her heart pounding against his fingers that were wrapped around her wrists. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry." He murmured as he straightened up, doing his best to ignore the screaming agony in his leg from the slip. "I just—we need to talk."

"I know. That's why I'm here." Her fingers knotted together, searching his face before she spoke again. "Listen, it's cold outside. Could I…maybe come in for some tea?" She asked, laughing self-consciously when her voice shook. "Or something stronger?"

"Of course." He replied, watching her warily as he led her inside.

She didn't follow him up the stairs, which disappointed him, and when he returned with the tea tray laden with the usual tea instruments and a half-full bottle of whiskey, she was settled into her armchair beside the empty hearth.

"You could have come upstairs," He murmured as he put the tea tray down between them.

"After being such a bitch yesterday, I just assumed I wasn't welcome." She replied, dropping the guarded expression she'd been wearing since he ran into her and giving him a truly apologetic look.

"Belle, you're _always_ welcome." He said stubbornly. "Don't be stupid. We both said some things we regret."

"Are you cold?" He asked when she shivered a moment later, turning to peer at the empty hearth with new purpose. "It's been a while, but I can probably still manage to get a fire going." He nudged the few small, ancient logs beside the hearth with his foot. If she wasn't going to come upstairs, where it was actually warm and light, he could at least make the shop hospitable for her.

She made a non-committal noise, busying herself instead with their drinks, and he spent several minutes fussing in the fireplace before he finally managed to start a small fire, giving her time to collect her thoughts.

She snorted when he leaned proudly back on his heels, admiring his accomplishment with the fire. He turned and noticed her watching him, trying to hide an amused smile.

"I had no idea you were a boy scout, Gold." She teased, extending a cup towards him when he stood. "Nice job."

"Thank you," He murmured. He took the offered cup and settled himself across from her in his own chair, toying with the delicate porcelain awkwardly, trying to find the right place to start, but she beat him to it.

"Gold, I'm sorry." He looked over at her, but her expression was distant and contrite as she spoke. "I don't know how things got so screwed up between us so fast, and I didn't mean for them to get like that."

He didn't know how to respond, so he simply watched as her face shifted from tension to anxiety to sadness and back as she spoke. "You're a nice person, and you deserve better than someone who treats you like I did." She finally met his eyes, speaking sincerely. "I was-am _still _in a dark place, dealing with all this fallout from Richard, but that doesn't excuse the way I behaved."

He put his empty cup down on the tray before sighing and running his hands through his hair. "I've done my share of things that require apologies, Belle. Don't try to pin this whole situation on yourself."

She leaned back against her chair, her expression suggesting she clearly disagreed with him, but she didn't interrupt when he began to speak.

"You were right. In what you said. I don't know you, Belle, as much as I'd like that to change. I was just trying to protect you from the things I _do_ know."

She shook her head. "I guess I just don't understand why it's such a big deal. The issue was between the mayor and I. I didn't want to burden you further."

"That's why you needed to _trust_ me when I told you not to do it."

She looked contrite at his words. "I know."

"No." He insisted, giving her a level-eyed state. "You don't. But I shouldn't have tried to make the decision for you, and I'm sorry for that. I also shouldn't have lost my temper. I never meant to chase you away, or frighten you."

Belle responded by pouring a significant amount of whiskey into their cups before filling them with tea. She offered his back to him wordlessly, and they both grimaced at the taste. They were quiet for a moment before she finally spoke.

"I know that you were just looking out for me." She said quietly, all traces of anger gone. "But you also need to understand that I've lived my entire life being told what to do, Gold, and I've had enough of it. You need to believe me when I say that I can take care of myself. You need to _trust_ me."

He looked away, running his fingers along the cup. "I don't know how to do that." He admitted finally.

"Believe that I can take care of myself?"

"Trust." He confessed. "I don't know how to."

He heard her move, surprised when her fingers tenderly tilted his chin to look at her as she knelt by his knees a moment later.

"Oh, Gold." Her voice was soft, gentle sympathy in her eyes as she spoke. "What happened to you to make you this way?"

"It doesn't matter." He responded, moving her hand from his chin to his knee and stroking his fingertips idly along the skin of her arm as he tried to fight the bitterness that was choking him.

"You trusted me once, a long time ago." She said, so softly that at first he didn't hear her. "Didn't you?"

His lip twitched, and he concentrated on tracing a vein on the inside of her arm with his nail. "I wanted to. More than anything, I wanted to trust you."

"What happened?" She prodded softly, watching as he moved up her wrist and began tracing the bones of her hand with his nail.

"It doesn't matter," He repeated dismissively, and they both hesitated when his wandering traces were impeded by the ring on her finger. He felt her hand tense on his knee as he fiddled with the ring gently, touching the single small diamond inset in the silver band. She made a loose fist when he took it between his fingers and tried to spin it.

"Gold," She warned, so gently that it was more of a tired sigh than a reprimand, and he let the ring go.

"I wish you'd let me know what was going on." He murmured, suddenly tired.

"Believe me, you'll be the first to know." She responded, sounding just as exhausted as he felt.

After a moment she laughed softly, and he looked at her in surprise.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing. We just seem to be at an impasse."

He was about to speak before he noticed a smudge of soot on her cheek, and as he took closer stock he could see in the flickering firelight that the knees of her jeans were blackened. "You're filthy, Belle. Where have you been?" He asked, sidetracked. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she took a long sip from her tea, draining it with a grimace before speaking. "Slow down with the compliments, Gold, I can't keep up. I've been at Regina's."

He watched her, trying to keep the building fury from his voice. "Her home is that filthy?"

"Same as yours," She said easily. "Dirty in the places not in use, except that her home is much bigger. I think today will be the worst of it; there isn't much left to do. She's a tidy woman. I think she mostly just wants me to watch her son."

"What she _wants_ is to keep you in her pocket." He grumbled. "To use against me."

"Why? What happened between the two of you?" She asked.

He shrugged absently. "We've been this way for as long as I can remember. It's nothing personal, we both just enjoy power and so naturally we have run-ins. There have been times when we're pleasant with each other, although now she's involved you…I don't think that will happen again for a while." He bowed his head, running his thumb along the edge of his teacup thoughtfully until Belle responded.

"Why can't you help me with Regina?" She asked. "You said you were _bound_ now that the agreement had been made."

"We have rules." He explained patiently. "We've done horrible things to one another, but there are certain lines that neither of us can cross. Most are loose agreements. There are only two that are binding, but they cover most situations we find ourselves involved in together. One for each of us."

"What are they?" She asked.

He held up his hand, counting them off his fingers. "The first, Regina's, is that we never, _ever_ tell others about the curse, or legitimize its existence." He glanced down at her. "That's why I made you promise to not speak of it when I told you about it."

Her eyes widened. "Because Regina would find out that I knew?"

"No," He replied, amused. "Regina gave me permission, more or less, to tell you about it shortly after you and I met. She assumed that kissing you would break the curse and restore your memories, and so I suspect she thinks you know about it by now, although she doesn't know how much. You knowing affects very little as far as she's concerned, so long as you don't mention it to anyone."

"And the second?"

He snorted. "The second is the one causing the problems right now."

"If the first was hers, doesn't that make the second yours?" She asked, amused.

"Yes." He said, shaking his head. "The second is a throwback to the story I told you, our lives before the curse. I had a...let's call it a _fascination_; with deal making. The second rule is that any deals she and I make or that involve us are law. They can be altered or changed so long as it's mutually agreed upon, but to break one of them would involve serious consequences, same as the first rule."

"What consequences?" She asked.

"We stay away from one another as much as we can, and we stay out of each other's lives, but to break either rule would take the gloves off of our precarious relationship. Suffice to say that things would get _very_ messy for everyone in town if that were to happen. So, naturally, she and I avoid making deals with one another because of the threat of that."

"Oh," Belle said, and he could see the realization dawning in her eyes when she spoke next. "So, her and I's deal really messed things up for you, then."

He snorted. "She must have nearly climbed out of her skin in excitement when you offered to make a deal with her, knowing that of course I'd put myself in the middle of it to protect you."

She looked upset at his words. "I'm sorry. I've caused trouble for you."

"Not yet," He replied. "As long as you find a job and don't become endebted to her, and I don't get involved, we'll be fine."

"You know, things were a lot less stressful an hour ago." She replied dryly. "Before I realized I'd thrown myself in the center of a feud."

"Less stressful, yes." He said. "But far less interesting. Now you know everything."

"I suppose so."

His realization that things had changed slowly came upon him, leaving him feeling like he had when he'd first brought her to his shop. Uncertain of the future, concerned that she was going to walk through his doors and never come back, afraid to know where they stood with one another, and when she yawned and checked her watch, mumbling about the lateness of the hour, he couldn't help himself.

"Belle." He caught her wrists gently in his hands when she stood, tugging on them, and she leaned down obligingly. Resting her hands on the arm rests of his chair so they were at eye level with each other, she regarded him curiously.

"Yes?"

Wordlessly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to hers, needing reassurance in the form of her touch. She hesitated for only an instant before her eyes fluttered shut and she returned the gentle kiss, lingering there.

"Oh, Gold." She murmured against his lips, his name a caress. "I missed you."

He didn't care in that moment where she was staying, what jewelry she wore, what either of them was going through. She was here, she had _missed him_, and everything else would figure itself out in the end. He rested his hands over hers, and they watched each other in flickering firelight before she kissed him again; a simple, chaste gesture, but he could feel his own fear and uncertainty mirrored in the way she molded her lips against his, tense and searching for reassurance that neither could give.

It didn't stop them from trying, though, and before long she was curled in his lap, forehead resting against his shoulder as he stroked her hair, trading lazy kisses for what felt like a blissful eternity.

"I need to get home." She whispered when the clock tower outside chimed midnight, sounding truly apologetic. "I'm sorry."

The words were on his tongue; asking her to stay with him. Begging her to not go home to an empty house. He could make the argument. It was cold outside; she had a long walk. She didn't need to go back home, _this_ was her home, and she was always welcome. But she'd just told him she wanted to be independent and asked him to trust in her and believe that she could take care of herself, and he knew that if he asked he'd just be proving to her that he couldn't.

"Okay." He said finally, and she shifted off of his lap so they could both stand. "I'll walk you out."

"Oh," She said when they reached the door. "I almost forgot. Here." She retrieved a pair of keys from her pocket and offered them to him with a smile. "The keys to the castle."

He took them, fiddling with the key ring until he removed the spare, and he handed it back to her. "Just in case," He said.

"Thanks," She responded, looking surprised as she pocketed the key. She gave him a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder, and he nuzzled her hair gently, the air suddenly tense with unspoken words.

"I suppose that you'll be busy with Regina for a while." He murmured sadly when they finally drew apart. "Too busy to stop by and read books in the shop."

"Yeah," She said, looking contrite. "But I can stop by when I'm not job hunting…if you'd like?" She asked, and he felt a spark of hope ignite in his belly. "I walk right by your shop on my way home."

"I'd like that." He replied, smiling. "Very much. But I wouldn't say no to just a wave through the window if you're too busy to stop in."

"I think I can manage that." She said, reaching up to stroke his cheek softly before she turned to leave. "Have a good night, Gold."

* * *

**Just a quick half-chapter to take out the sting of the last one. I normally try to submit chapters on a Friday, but I didn't want to leave Belle and Gold on such a sour note for long. D:**

**Hope everybody enjoys, and I promise the angst won't last forever. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

If he'd enjoyed his days before Belle, he couldn't remember why.

He awoke at seven. Showered, dressed. Cooked himself a meager breakfast, which typically consisted of a piece or two of honeyed toast and a pot of tea that he brought down to the shop with him and nibbled on over the course of the morning. The tea typically went cold long before he could finish it, and around noon he made a brief trip upstairs to make a fresh pot and scrounge up lunch; usually a plate of cold cuts and cheese or something equally simple that he brought back down to the shop. He then did paperwork, dealing with customers and tenants and fielding calls for deals, picking at his meal in his free time until three when he left to collect rent from his tenants.

He typically returned around five; idly working on paperwork or entertaining himself with fixing some broken bauble from the hefty backlog in his storeroom until seven, when the store was supposed to close. He then broke his old, pre-Belle routine by wandering around the store, finding things that needed his attention, loitering and finding reasons to keep the shop open until eight thirty. That was when Belle walked by his shop on her way home.

The first few days, she stopped in for a quick chat about their day, trading stories before, stifling a yawn, she'd excuse herself, and it took all of his chivalry to gently chastise her about dropping in if she was tired. Every day for the week after that, he could see the exhaustion in the way she carried herself when she came into view, and he resigned himself to simply exchanging little smiles and waves through the glass before she continued on her way, frustrated that Regina was somehow finding ways to drain Belle's seemingly bottomless energy in what he'd heard was a meticulously clean home.

Even when she was too busy to stop in, it lightened his heart that she cared enough to look in on him, knowing that she was okay despite how much it was killing him to not go outside and meet her; inquire about her day, ask her in for tea or maybe dinner. See if she was sleeping well, if her nightmares had gone away now that she was safe at home, or if she woke up and missed him keeping her warm in the middle of the night.

He didn't realize how attached he'd become to his brief, eight-thirty appointments with Belle until he missed one a week after they'd begun the ritual. He'd been downtown, _finally_ getting his appointment to see the property being sold on the main strip, and it had slipped his mind.

Having never met the man who owned the property before, Gold took an instant dislike to him and his business. The proprietor of the small gift and floral shop; a large, watery-eyed man just past his prime who simply went by Moe, had watched Gold enter with wariness from behind the counter, eyeing Gold as if he were a disease ridden animal crossing his threshold rather than the potential and _only_ buyer of his property, and things had only gotten worse after the first impression. They'd taken an instant dislike to each other, and after two hours of arguments and getting nowhere Gold had written an amount on the back of one of his cards, pushed it into the man's palm, and told him to call him when he was ready to sign paperwork. He'd then left in a flourish, ignoring the angry calls at his back.

The man was lucky Gold waited until he was out of his shop to glance at the time, because he was half-certain that if he'd realized eight-thirty had come and gone without seeing Belle while in his presence, he'd have killed the man.

His malicious thoughts towards the man had eased, however, when after calling it an early night and waking up far earlier than usual the next morning, he wandered out of his shop at sunrise to pick up breakfast at Granny's and saw a familiar shape trudging through the twilight towards him.

"Belle," He called, breaking her reverie. He was pleased when her surprised expression gave way to a wide grin that matched his own.

"Gold!" She cried, hurrying through the pre-dawn fog towards him. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I thought I'd go get breakfast at Granny's," He replied, perking up. "Would you like to come?"

"Can't," She replied, smiling and looking contrite. "Regina's. But Granny's is on my way. I'll walk with you."

"You go to Regina's at _sunrise?"_ He asked as he matched her stride, his cane making a harmonious clicking on the pavement with their footfalls. "Doesn't she give you any time to find work?"

"I have Sundays off." She replied, and when he glanced over she looked just as concerned as he felt. "I dropped off resumes last weekend to every single store I could walk to, but I haven't heard back from any of them yet." She laughed nervously, running her hands through her chestnut curls before giving him an anxious stare, her tone just short of the humor she was striving for. "Apparently there isn't a whole lot of work for someone with no prior experience, but I'm still trying."

He could tell by the way her shoulders slumped that he didn't need to remind her of the consequences that failing to pay Regina back would bring, and instead tugged her cold hand from her face to squeeze reassuringly.

"I'm sure you'll find something." He mumbled, trying to sound comforting.

They walked the rest of the way to Granny's trading companionable albeit awkward chatter, and he finally amused her by telling her about his adventures with the man the night before. Granny's came all too soon, and when she stopped at the door with him he was tempted to just give up on breakfast and walk her the rest of the way to Regina's, reluctantly abandoning the idea when he realized what kind of damage a trek that long would cause on his knee.

He wanted to kiss her, to pull her into a tight embrace and press his lips unabashedly against hers, but a single glance towards the windows of the diner showed they were already garnering the attention of the few patrons awake this early; the handful of people inside were leaning together and murmuring behind their coffee cups as they stared, one woman very pointedly touching her wedding ring as she nudged her husband and nodded towards them. He watched a blush rise on Belle's cheeks, her fingers mechanically touching the same band of silver on her finger and fidgeting with it as she squirmed.

"Should go," She murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before giving him a little one armed squeeze. "I'll—uhm. I'll see you later, Gold."

He sauntered inside once she'd disappeared around the corner, his dark glare roving over the diner, but no one met his eye. It wasn't until he was settled in at the back, tucking into his breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and sausage that he realized Belle hadn't been embarrassed to be seen with him in public the first time two times they'd come here, and he spent the rest of his meal wondering what to make of that new distinction.

The rest of the morning passed with torturous sluggishness, and he stifled a yawn as he finished up the work he'd been doing, ready to close up shop for a while to go upstairs and make himself lunch and a cup of coffee. He'd considered shutting down for a nap, but he was still unsettled by the events of that morning, wishing Belle hadn't been so uncomfortable to be seen with him, and he rejected the idea.

Word had obviously travelled about their day out together several weeks before, and people had stared, _openly stared_, the entire time he'd eaten that morning, only avoiding his gaze when he looked at them, and he'd had to swallow down the urge to check the mirror when he got home to make certain "I fucked an engaged Belle French" hadn't been tattooed on his forehead. It hadn't, he was certain, but it didn't stop him from rubbing unconsciously at his face as he reached the door to lock up for lunch.

The metal handle turned as he touched it, and he watched as the doorknob left his fingers and opened to reveal Emma.

"Sheriff Swan," He said blandly, ignoring the surprise on her face and the way she jumped at his unexpected proximity.

"Oh. Uh-Am I interrupting something?" The blonde asked, looking uncomfortable.

"Not at all," He said tiredly, stepping aside to let her in. "I was just about to have lunch."

"Oh, well, I won't keep you then." She said, stepping past him and into the shop, her gaze going immediately to the chairs pulled up beside the fireplace. "This will only take a minute."

"What do you need, Sheriff? Am I under arrest?" He asked dryly.

"I'm actually here to see Belle." She responded. "I was going to offer my help to get her things from the house if she needed an escort—are you okay?" She asked, and he realized too late that his face had twisted into pained scowl. He carefully blanked his expression.

"Thank you for your concern, Sheriff, but she isn't staying here." He said softly. "She went home."

"Oh," Emma said, the word trailing off awkwardly. "I'm—uh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"As am I." He responded bitterly, turning away from her. He was too exhausted by the situation to throw Emma out, and he hoped that her lack of reason to stay and his lack of interest would give her a hint.

"It wasn't about the bruises, was it? You two didn't fight because of what I said?" She asked, taking him by surprise, and it took him a moment to place her tone. She was concerned. _Concerned? _He shook his head.

"No." He said, wishing the issue was that simple. "It wasn't that."

"What happened?" She prodded, and he wasn't sure if it was his exhaustion with he and Belle's situation, his general anxiety, or if she'd actually managed to get under his skin, but he surprised himself by responding without thought.

"She's still wearing her engagement ring." He said tiredly. "We had a…falling out over it. We made up to a certain point, but word seems to have gotten out about us and she's…_uncomfortable_ to be seen in public with me."

"Oh," Emma said, raising her eyebrows, looking just as surprised at hearing his confession as he was at uttering it. "Well, can you blame her?"

"Blame her?"

"For keeping the ring on, Gold."

He looked confused. _She'd_ been the one to tease them over he and Belle's love marks the last time he'd seen her. "Miss Swan, you've had some sort of intuition since the beginning about what was going on between Belle and I. Don't act as if you don't understand the situation."

"I'm not." She said, frowning at him. "But maybe I'm seeing the situation more clearly than you are."

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, frustrated, before looking at the clock over her shoulder. His lunch breaks were usually no more than a few minutes, and he was now fifteen minutes into it. His instinct was to throw her out, to tell her it was none of her business and to go about her day, but he'd been feeling anxious about Belle since that morning and if this obnoxious, nosy woman had some insights, he had reached the point where he was willing to listen.

"Miss Swan, I need to make myself lunch. You're welcome to stay, but I need to reopen the shop."

"I have takeout from Granny's in the cruiser," She said, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb. "I'll split my burger with you. Reopen the shop."

He hesitated, watching her with wariness and calling out to her when she reached the door. "Emma, why are you helping me? Why do you care?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him, a hidden little smile playing on her lips. "You've lived up to your reputation and been a pain in the ass since I moved here, Gold, but I haven't heard a single peep of trouble from you since the Richard Blanc incident, and that's gotta be a record. If I can give you some insight about your girl that keeps you out of my hair for good, I'll gladly sacrifice my lunch hour to give it."

He dragged a spare stool over for Emma while she gathered their lunch, and they were settled on opposite sides of the glass display case where he normally sat. Emma hadn't even finished cutting the hamburger in half before Gold's grip on his temper frayed. He wasn't used to having to _wait_ for answers, and the five minutes it had taken them to get settled had been too much for his tattered nerves.

"Why would you have a better insight into this than me?" He snapped at her, realizing that no matter how much he desired Emma's advice, his ability to be a tolerable meal companion applied only to the blue-eyed dream he needed advice _about_.

Emma raised her eyebrows at him, meeting his frustrated sarcasm with her own. She spoke slowly, as if he were mentally troubled.

"Well, let's see. A woman who has been engaged for forever goes through a nasty breakup, and then climbs into bed with you and you expect her to fall into your arms, tearing the ring off and declaring her undying love just because you two had sex?" She asked, taking a bite of her half of the hamburger and pushing the Styrofoam takeout box with his half towards him. "Am I missing anything, or do I need to explain why that's a ridiculous expectation?"

He gawked at her. "It isn't like that."

"That's what it looks like from over here." She said, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Has it never occurred to you that maybe she was terrified of being alone after living with someone for so long, and found herself with the chance to let off a little steam in a safe environment? You're obviously into her, Gold. You look at her like she's God's gift to the Earth. Have you told her how you feel?"

"She's wearing the ring." He protested, embarrassed that his feelings were so obvious. "And she refuses to tell me what's going on between herself and her fiancé. So no, of course not. Besides," He added, lowering his voice to a mumble as he poked at his half of the hamburger sullenly. "I don't think she feels that way about me."

"Look," She said, threading her fingers together and giving him a stern look. "The woman has had an incredibly long engagement. No matter what your expectations are, you need to be patient. She obviously has _some_ feelings for you. You just need to give her time to figure out what those feelings are."

"I'm starting to get the impression that those feelings aren't the same as my own," He confessed. "She treats me like a friend. I don't know what to think when she's around."

"Yeah, maybe, but she still _has_ those feelings. For _you._ Christ, Gold, she's probably twenty years your junior. How old is she? Twenty? Twenty five?"

Between his immortality and her cursed self, he had no idea how to measure either of their ages, and he didn't care. Years were meaningless to him, and so he shrugged off the comment without a thought.

"Look," She said when he made no move to comment. "I'm going to guess that relationships aren't something you find yourself in every day, so let me give you some advice."

She leaned in, speaking slowly and imparting the importance of her words with her tone. "I would bet against the idea that rebound sex is something a girl like Belle does with whoever is available. Whatever she feels, she picked you because she _trusts_ you, and a beautiful girl like Belle trusting you in such a fragile state is reason enough to celebrate. She likes you well enough, Gold, she's just conflicted. Give her some space, foster her trust, and don't pressure her into making any fast decisions, and you never know what might happen. You need to be _patient._"

He disliked taking advice from her, but he had to admit that she at least seemed to know what she was talking about, and he hated her for the truth in her words.

"Oh." He said simply as he absorbed her words, wondering how his mind could feel clearer than it had in a month yet at the same time feel full to bursting. Emma was right; he was a fool because _of course he fucking was_. In her eyes, he'd probably seemed okay with their lack of emotional commitment, creating a safe environment with no strings attached until he'd touched her ring. He'd thought _she_ had been using _him_, but in reality she'd probably been oblivious to an issue until he'd rejected her advances, scaring her off with his need for reassurance. He felt like an idiot.

Emma was brushing the crumbs of her hamburger from her lips and Gold was still lost in his thoughts when the bell above the door chimed, and Gold had to crane his head around Emma to see who had come in.

"I must have missed the invitation," Regina purred as she ghosted over to the two of them, giving them each a smug little look. "Or have I interrupted something private?"

"Regina," Gold said at the same time Emma snarled, "Madam Mayor," and the two of them looked at each other before returning their gazes to Regina.

"Mr. Gold," She said with an air of overpleasant sweetness. Regina then gave Emma an icy look. "Miss Swan, don't you have some cats to retrieve from trees, or something? Go make yourself scarce. I need to speak with Mr. Gold."

"That would be the Fire Department," Emma retorted, her words dripping with tense sarcasm. "My job is saving the townspeople from threats like you, Madam Mayor, so unless Mr. Gold has a problem, I think I'll stay and finish my lunch."

Regina gave her a bland look, pursing her lips when Gold made no indication that Emma should leave. "Suit yourself." She faltered for only a moment before she turned to Gold, a smirk slowly crossing her face as she crossed her arms. He could see it written on her face; the indecision of whether or not to ignore Emma or leave without preening about whatever it was she'd come for, and that gave him an idea.

"What do you want, Regina?" He asked with feigned tiredness, amused that whatever thing she'd come to gloat about didn't seem to be something she could discuss in front of Emma.

"I just wanted to come and see how you were doing," She replied easily. "Haven't seen you around in a few days." She hinted, her pouty little smile growing on her face despite her previous indecision.

His lip curled up, baring his teeth at her, pleased as he realized her mistake. If she was hedging, that meant she didn't want Emma to know what was going on with Belle, which gave him unexpected power over the situation. They had many unspoken agreements about things that weren't discussed in front of others, and it was with uncharacteristic glee that he realized the current situation didn't fall into any of them. He had free reign to drag Regina through the mud, and he felt a glimmer of his old self awaken, stretching out like a languid predator in his mind before fixing his attention on the conversation with interest.

"Now now, Regina." He purred, swallowing a little titter of laughter that would probably scare poor Emma out of her skin to hear coming from him. "Let's not keep my guest in the dark." Regina's eyes widened marginally, lips parting as he turned to Emma. "Our lady mayor tricked poor Belle into working for her for free for the foreseeable future." He turned back to Regina, his smirk fading into a dark stare.

"Wait, what?" Emma asked, standing and looking to Regina. "That can't be legal."

"It was an agreed upon deal," Regina replied easily as she stared him down, but a twitch in her lip betrayed her fury. "She wasn't pressured into anything, Sheriff, so I suggest you mind your own business and stay out of this."

Emma looked between Regina and Gold, wearing the expression he'd learned typically meant trouble from the blonde, and some tiny part of his conscience felt bad for using her to get at Regina. He ignored it with ease, raising his eyebrows.

"Wasn't she? You took her fiancé off the lease and gave Belle no warning whatsoever that she was expected to pay rent. You know the girl is unemployed; you were more than happy to remind her when you two met. You expect the girl to work, from sunrise until eight at night, and find the time for a job to pay you back?"

He could see Emma getting wound up in his peripheral vision as he spelled out the deal _he_ wasn't able to change, glad that she was so easily flustered. It was a shame that the blonde wasn't better at hiding her emotions, because he'd heard tale of her many battles with Regina, and he suspected she'd have won some of them if it wasn't for her terrible poker face.

"There is nothing illegal about that." Regina protested, and he was pleased that she was ignoring Emma. "The girl agreed to it."

Emma's hands twisted into fists at her side. "There has to be. You can't just do something like that. Belle is a good kid._"_

Regina finally turned and gave Emma her full attention, her patience fraying.

"There is _nothing illegal about that." _She drawled again.

"Well now, wait a moment." Gold said, swallowing yet another gleeful giggle. It was just _so nice_ to see Regina backed into a corner. "I'm sure if Emma dug out the law books and looked hard enough she could find _something.."_

"Enough." Regina said, pursing her lips again and fixing him with a cool stare, clearly having no interest in being bothered by Emma for the near future. "What do you want, Gold?"

Emma made a noise of protest, but both he and Regina immediately ignored it. Emma was the law, but he and Regina were a class unto themselves, and this was between them now. It was a dance they'd both been at for countless years, and he knew the steps well enough to know by the look on Regina's face that he no longer needed to use Emma to get what he wanted.

"Drop the deal." He said easily.

"That isn't going to happen." She replied coldly. "She _owes_ me."

"You asked what I wanted." He rumbled, and they glared at one another. "That's my price."

"No deal. Your price is too high, Gold."

"Then give her time to find a job." Emma demanded, and the two of them looked to her in surprise, as if she'd just appeared there. "That's fair. If you really want her to pay you back, then you need to give her days to actually go looking for one."

"Smart woman," Gold replied before looking to Regina. "That's a sad second, but acceptable." He fixed her with a cold stare. "And when she _does_ get a job, you need to work with whatever hours she's given."

"Fine." Regina snarled before sliding back behind her cool reserve again. "The girl will have time during the day to go find a job."

He held out a hand, and he could feel her anger when they shook on it, but she hid it well.

"Deal. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to." She raised her chin, looking down her nose at the two of them before gracefully turning to leave. She took a few steps before hesitating and beginning to turn, opening her mouth to speak with what he was certain was a cutting remark.

"I'll see you out." Emma said abruptly, cutting off whatever quip was on Regina's lips. She stood and put her hand on Regina's back to keep her from stopping, and he was impressed that Emma didn't flinch in the slightest when Regina turned and gave her a withering look that could have flayed flesh from bone. Regina roughly shrugged off her hand when they got to the door, sauntering out of sight, and Emma turned and shared a secret little smirk with him.

He was immediately impressed with the blonde. As much as Belle was his intellectual and linguistic match, Emma seemed to be Regina's, and it amused him that the Sheriff was able to completely defeat Madam Mayor when given the proper tools.

"Try to keep my advice about Belle in mind." She said, and he nodded, watching her shut the door behind herself.

Finally all alone, he placed his palms together and let out the gleeful little titter of a laugh he'd been holding, payment enough for awakening Rumplestiltskin from his repressed slumber. He and Belle's situation was precarious but apparently hopeful, Regina had been bested at her own game for once, and it felt good to relax and let his old self creep back in, if only for a moment.

* * *

He practically strutted around his shop the rest of the afternoon, his polished shoes and cane echoing on the hardwood floor as he paced. He'd tried doing paperwork, but the nervous energy that had been released during his discussion with Emma and victory over Regina made him restless, and he'd begun wandering about his shop, picking up this, moving that, and the place was positively a mess by the time he'd calmed his nerves.

Dust motes floated lazily through the air, pretty in the way they caught the light streaming through the drapes but making him cough and sneeze, and he finally relented by opening the shop door to let in air that had a bite of winter to it so that he could dust. He'd worked on the painfully boring chore for half an hour before giving up and dragging his armchair back to the fireplace, coaxing a small fire out of the remaining logs and making himself a pot of tea. As he relaxed he found he rather enjoyed the comfort of a warm chair, legs stretched out before him with his feet propped on the hearth and a cup of hot tea in his hands. A man could get used to such small pleasures, and he wondered why it had taken him so long to make use of the fixture.

He was content to watch the light change outside, enjoying the way the cold air from the open door made being beside the fire even more pleasant, and was glad when the remaining hours of the day passed inconsequentially without a single visitor.

It was eight thirty on the dot when Belle walked by, coming inside without hesitation and heading for him. She was beautiful in the firelight, though he couldn't help but be concerned that she was cold; dressed in the short yellow dress he liked so much, but he drank in the sight of her as she approached him, certain he'd never get enough of her even if they both lived an eternity.

"Hello, Gold," She purred at him, and he was surprised when she settled herself in his lap.

"Hello to you too, sweetheart," He replied, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. "I can retrieve your chair, if you like. I moved it when I was cleaning."

"I like this spot better." She said, leaning down and pressing her lips against him without preamble, her fingers trailing through his hair. His bones melted, his hands resting tenderly on her upper arms, and he was dazed and feeling strange when she leaned back, a look of shocked glee on her innocent face as she studied him.

"What's happening?" He asked, the off-feeling growing as he watched a grin split her beautiful face.

"Kiss me again," She said, taking one of her hands in his. "It's working!"

"What is?" He mumbled. His mind felt full of fog, his words tumbling from his lips in a slur as he tried to get a proper look at her.

She leaned in, blue eyes alight with pure joy as she spoke, whispering as if she were sharing a precious secret with him. "Any curse can be broken."

She was on the floor before he could think, and he was gawking at the patches of green, scaly texture shimmering on his hands.

_No!_ He howled, writhing inside his own mind as the scene played out, but he was helpless. Frozen, trapped inside his own body, forced to watch as the joy in her eyes was replaced by shock.

"Who told you that!?" His voice commanded, the accent and sounding strange upon his lips, and he could feel the rage burning inside him at the terror blooming in her eyes.

_Finally,_ he thought to himself in that same high-pitched voice. _She sees the beast for who he is. _"Who knows that?!"

Rage was making him quake, tensing the muscles in his arms as he made fists. The rage was shaking him, down to his bones, and the scene swam as he stalked over to her, dragging her roughly up by her arms as he shouted, but the words were incomprehensible among all the fury. Shaking, shouting.._really shaking him. _Someone was _shaking him,_ and Belle looked up at him, her eyes narrowing as she opened her mouth and shouted at him.

"_Gold! Wake up!"_

He drew a ragged, panicked gasp as he opened his eyes, eyes wild as he took in his surroundings. They were in the was leaning over him in the same worn jeans and baby blue sweater she'd been wearing that morning, her fingers digging into his shoulder with enough force to bruise, shaking him one last time as if to make sure he was awake, the fear in her eyes cutting him to the marrow as she watched him.

"Gold." She gasped, searching his eyes. "Jesus Christ, are you alright?"

"W-What?" He asked, relieved that his voice was his own again, looking around the room in a panic as he tried to catch his breath. It was dark outside, the fire down to embers that flared into flame every few seconds, and the air in the shop was freezing despite the now closed door. It wasn't until she touched his hand that he looked down and realized his hands were clenched around the armrests so hard that his fingers were numb, and as he relaxed them he could feel his whole body was humming with the same tension.

_I haven't had that nightmare in years,_ He thought to himself, shaken. It had been so _real_. Before, it had always been the same old scene, but it had changed. It hadn't been his innocent little Belle in his arms, it had been _her_.

"You were screaming like someone was killing you," She said, brushing his hair back with the back of her hand. Her voice trembled as she spoke, and he could feel her hands shaking against his forehead. "I could hear you down the street, and when the door was open…you looked like you were possessed, like you were about to snap yourself in half with the way you were thrashing about. Are you alright?"

"M'fine." He replied shakily, trying unsuccessfully to force his breathing and heartbeat back to a regular pace. "Nightmare, that's all."

"No shit." She replied, and she steadied him against her when he stood a moment later and wobbled. "Jesus, Gold, you're freezing." She hissed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and leading him up the stairs. "How long have you been down here?"

"I don't know," He replied, disoriented. "What time is it?"

"Midnight." She said, cursing when his sleep-clumsy feet tripped and nearly sent them both tumbling down the stairs.

"_Midnight?" _

She dragged him to his couch once they'd successfully ascended the stairs, sitting beside him. Her blue eyes searched his, concern etched onto her features as she ran a hand through his hair. He shuddered, pulling away from her fingers and clenching his eyes shut, haunted by the similar phantom touch of his dream.

"Gold?" Her voice was tense, and he just shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek and forcing his hands not to shake. When he couldn't dispel the terror of the nightmare by sheer force of will, he changed tactics and forced himself to concentrate on the present.

"What are you doing outside at midnight, Belle?" He asked, forcing his hands to unclench.

"Going home," She replied, looking surprised when he opened his eyes and looked at her. "Why?"

"Where were you until midnight?"

"Regina's." She responded, and t_hat_ worked. The fear in his veins was replaced in an instant by rage, but Belle cut him off before he could vocalize it. "She was out until late, and her son was all alone in that big house. It was fine, Gold, really. I _wanted_ to stay. Henry is such a sweet boy."

He stared at her, gawking as if he'd never seen her before. She was a slave to the woman with the blackest heart in Storybrooke, and yet she'd _volunteered_ to stay and watch her boy because she didn't want him all alone in the house. If they had ten eternities to spend together, he was sure she'd still continue to surprise him.

"I see." Was all he could manage once he found his voice again, but it was enough. The tension that had built in her body at his anger disappeared, and she gave him a hesitant little smile that he returned in kind.

They sat in silence for a minute, and as the rage drained from his muscles, fatigue took its place, and between his nightmare, getting up so early, and the drama of that morning he was suddenly beyond exhausted. He leaned against the arm of the sofa, trying to keep his thoughts from scattering in his empty mind. If he fell asleep, she would leave, and they'd be back to trading waves through the windows of his store. She didn't seem to be making any indications of _wanting_ to leave, though, and that left him hopeful.

But she _needed _to leave, his tired mind argued to him. He needed to be patient with her, like Emma had said. He needed to not push demands on her. Didn't he?

_But you also need to be accepting,_ He reminded himself._ You also need tell her what's going on rather than let her get the wrong impression_. _You need to take charge._

_Is it being demanding to let her stay without argument if she wants to? _

It was too many rules, he decided woozily. He didn't know how to juggle being patient and accepting while at the same time keeping her from assuming the wrong things about his intentions. It made his tired head hurt to even begin, so he just sat there suspended somewhere between being awake and asleep, mind full and yet empty, and in his peripheral vision he could see her sitting beside him patiently, watching him with an unfathomable expression as he fought to stay awake.

"Are you okay?" She asked with soft concern after a few minutes, tentatively touching his temple with her fingertips. When he didn't flinch away from her touch, she carded her fingers gently through his hair. "You look like your mind is working overtime."

His voice was a tired mumble when he spoke, turning his head so he could watch her through the shimmering haze of his vision. "M'trying to solve a puzzle."

"Oh?" She asked, and there was soft amusement in her voice. "Tell me about this puzzle."

"Need to be patient," He heard himself say, but his voice sounded distant in his ears. "Think you should go. Don't want you to."

There was a pause that he couldn't begin to measure the length of before she spoke.

"Well…what do you want?" She asked, her soothing tone caressing his very soul. Her fingers were _so soft _in his hair, the last of his willpower draining from him as his eyes slid shut.

"Stay," Was all he could manage to reply before sleep took him.

* * *

The recurring nightmare had been terrible; breaking him apart on the inside, but it at least had been somewhat expected. For Belle to be _this_ Belle, for it to happen in_ this_ world, was terrifying and cruel and sharp, as if his subconscious had found new ways to torture him by using his recent and short-lived happiness against him in new yet old ways. It had shaken him to his core, leaving him empty and raw on the inside, and it had hurt.

If the nightmare had left him raw, the dream afterward had been salt on the wound.

He wasn't even half-awake, but he hated himself for that second dream. It was creative in ways the first wasn't; completely new, playing on his emotions. _She_ had been the knight, rushing in and saving him from his demons after so long apart, playing with his hair and asking him about puzzles as if nothing had occurred between them.

His longing for her was becoming pathetic. Honestly, as if she'd just waltz inside, take control of the situation and then have the nerve to ask him what _he wanted_, as if—_oh._ Something brushed against his calf, stirring him from his thoughts, and he paused in his mental rant as something silky soft moved against his cheek. He roused himself enough to press his face towards the softness, and was rewarded with a quiet sigh that was far too feminine to be his. Oh. _Oh._

His mind changed tactics in an instant, and he retracted all of his qualms about the second dream. If it was salt in his wounds, he'd gladly take it, and he clung to the frayed strands of his slumber, desperately trying to stay in this dream. He was on his back, and could feel her pressed tightly against his side, and as he very slowly stretched out his fingers and toes he realized they were on the couch, _his couch_, and by the feel of it, they were taking up every last inch of the thing. The dream slipped through his fingers, and as he blinked an eye open he was left with the realization that it had been no conjuration of his mind.

After a week apart, Belle was warm and alive and very, _very_ real beside him.

Slowly, as if the mere act of looking at her would shatter the peace, he drifted his eyes over her form. She was completely at ease, her chestnut curls cascading down her back and neck. One of his pant legs was tugged up around his knee, and her foot was idly stroking his hair-roughened calf as she slept. One of her arms was curled protectively across her chest, pinned between them, and the other was draped loosely down her side, her fingers resting on her hip. He couldn't see her face, but he could _feel _it, her nose pressed against his jaw and her forehead resting on his temple. Her breath was warm on his neck, slow and steady, and the feel of it was comforting in a way nothing had been in a long, long time.

He'd woken up to her several times in their brief history, but in that moment he knew that with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, protectively keeping her from falling off the couch in the limited space, and her so completely relaxed and unguarded against him, it was the most intimate embrace they'd shared.

_I should have asked her to go,_ He thought to himself as he traced her form with his eyes. He wouldn't trade her being beside him for anything in the world, but he would bet anything that once she woke up, she'd retract from him, and he couldn't blame her. He understood now she wasn't using him on purpose; wasn't repulsed by the realization that in her weakness during the night she'd curled up against him for comfort. Besides, _he_ had been the one to ask _her_ to stay.

She stirred against him, breaking him from his thoughts, and he gently tightened his hold on her shoulders to keep her from tumbling unceremoniously from the couch and onto the floor. She made a quiet noise in her throat, nuzzling his cheek with her nose, and he couldn't help but smile. The couch was on the verge of being uncomfortable with them both on it now that he was awake, but he had no inclination to move, and he watched as she slowly rose from sleep, her legs stretching out in the limited space, her left arm moving from her thigh to drape across his chest instead. He gently traced his nails along her arm from elbow to wrist with his free hand, eliciting a pleased noise from her, and he ran his fingertips along the back of her hand to the end of each nail in turn, trying to commit the sensation of her soft skin beneath his fingers to memory.

She made a soft sound of enjoyment at his touch, settling against his side again, and he wasn't sure if she was awake or not as he idly repeated the pattern. Elbow, wrist, knuckles, fingertips…, His eyes unfocused as they followed the path of his fingers as he went. Elbow, wrist, knuckles, fingertips..

He'd made the circuit half a dozen times and was starting again when his eyes suddenly focused, staring at her shoulder as his fingers continued the pattern. His heart began to pound as he traced. Elbow, wrist, knuckle, fingertip. Wrist, knuckle, fingertip, wrist, knuckle…

He finished the circuit and started again quickly at her wrist in disbelief, his eyes frozen as he stared hard at her arm, unwilling and unable to drag his gaze down to her hand that he'd just traced unimpeded. Her _left_ hand.

He abandoned his tracing, taking his whole hand and placing it over hers, wondering how his stomach could simultaneously feel as if it were hiding in his feet and trying to climb out his throat at the same time. He didn't realize he was pressing his trembling fingers against each of hers in turn, searching, until her sleep-softened voice interrupted his frantic thoughts.

"It's not there." She said quietly, sounding amused despite herself. "No matter how thoroughly you search."

He still couldn't bring himself to look down at her hand, so he turned his head and looked at her face. She was watching him from behind her curls, her eyes sleepy but attentive. There was a secret little smile teasing the corner of her lips, and he stared at her as he searched each of her fingers, one last time, _just to be sure._

"It isn't there." He said, disbelief evident In his voice.

She smiled at him, her voice a gentle whisper as she replied, "Told you so."

* * *

**That last little bit of the chapter had me grinning the entire time I wrote it. It felt good to finally end a chapter on a super pleasant note. Please let me know what you think! :D **


	12. Chapter 12

He was frozen; utterly immobile as his eyes slowly left hers and traveled down to her hand, where he was still worrying her fingers between his own. She just waited patiently as he looked, turning her hand this way and that, as if the little silver band was hiding just out of sight and he was determined to find it.

"You left him?" He asked finally, voice small and full of awe, desperately needing reassurance as he touched his fingertips against hers.

"I left him the night that he locked me in our bedroom." She said. She was still relaxed against his side, but she dipped her head and rested her cheek against his shoulder. She seemed suddenly so fragile, as if a cutting word would break her. "I just finally came to the realization that what we had…" She trailed off, and he waited patiently as she assembled her words. "…wasn't what I wanted. It was dependent, for both of us. We needed each other, but…."

"You told me once that you loved him." He said softly, treading as carefully as he was able.

Her voice was tiny as she answered him, her words colored with the admission of defeat. "I'm not sure that's what it was."

He stroked her back gently, trying to ease the pain that was so evident in her words. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Are you?" She asked, and any barbs in her words were softened by the gentle humor of her tone.

Wishing he could see her expression to determine how to reply to such a loaded question, he pressed his face to her hair, closing his eyes as he replied honestly. "Not really, no."

He could feel her smile against the jacket of his rumpled suit, and he let out the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding with a soundlessly relieved sigh. They lay that way for another moment before she shifted against him.

"What time is it?" She asked, rolling over in the small space to see the clock on the opposite wall.

"Don't-!" His hand flew out to grab her, but it was too late. The precarious balance finally tipped, and she shrieked as she tumbled unceremoniously to the floor.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't overcompensated and tried to save her from the little fall, successfully accomplishing nothing except to be pulled down with her, her shriek ending in a breathless whoosh of air from her lungs as he landed in a pile atop her.

"You did that on purpose," She managed to whimper some time later when she'd finally regained the ability to breathe, cutting off the repeated apologies he'd been uttering since he'd dragged himself off of her and helped her sit up.

"Did not," He replied, his contrite tone shifting to one of guarded amusement at the laughter in her eyes. "You should look before you leap."

"I wasn't intending to _leap_ anywhere," She retorted in a wheeze, her breath sounding like it was coming a little easier now, and she swatted his shoulder with her palm. "If you hadn't been taking up the whole couch, I wouldn't have fallen off of it so easily."

"Plenty of space on top of me." He snapped humorously before he could think better of it, and he immediately knew he'd taken it too far by the way she gawked at him. She may have given up her ring, but he realized that the gesture didn't mean that she was willing to just crawl into bed with him. He felt an eager hunger swallow him up. He would _relish_ the chance to change that.

They quickly avoided each other's gaze, standing and putting distance between themselves. She angled her body away from him, gaze distant before she glanced at the clock.

"Shit!" She shouted, making him jump in surprise at the expletive, and she was suddenly brushing past him, smoothing her wrinkled jeans and sweater as she headed for the stairs.

"Belle?" He called nervously, having to jog after her as she took the stairs two at a time. "Where are you going?"

"I was supposed to be at Regina's two hours ago!" She cried, stopping and doing a nervous little circuit around the center of the shop, fingers tangling in her hair. "I was supposed to watch Henry. Shit. She's going to kill me. I'm such an _idiot!_ _" _She threw her head back, sounding frustrated as she shouted. "_Fuck!"_

He'd never heard her curse so much before, and he wondered how she was making ordinary words that had never given him pause before sound _so fucking attractive _as they left her lips. It was tempting to just stand there and watch her fume, but he shook himself out of his mystified, flustered awe so that he could help her.

"I'll drive you." He offered, smiling despite himself as he stepped forward and stopped her pacing. "And I won't let Regina kill you, Belle. You have my word on that."

She didn't argue as they flew out of his shop, diving into the passenger seat as he limped around the car and started the engine.

"Thank you," She breathed when they were racing down main street, and he glanced over at her.

"This is my fault," He replied easily, blowing through a stop sign without pause. She may have been panicked over the time, but he was still too amused and pleased by the events of the morning to be bothered by anything relating to Regina. "Giving you a ride is the least I can do. If I hadn't kept you last night, none of this would have happened."

"I don't regret staying," She said, and he glanced over at her in surprise.

"You don't?"

"No, of course not." She replied, giving him a bland look. "Why would I?"

His hands gripped the steering wheel as he studiously avoided her gaze. "I just thought—distance, you know." He mumbled. "Between us."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "Don't be an ass, Gold, and try to get it through your thick head that I _enjoy_ your company."

"But you were heading home," He complained, chastened by her words. "You weren't coming to visit."

"I was hoping to see you," She admitted, and when he looked over she was watching him. "I didn't expect to with it being midnight and all, but-I wanted to thank you. Regina told me what you did, in so many sour words. Giving me time to find a job. I thought you said you couldn't help me."

"Emma did the parts I couldn't," He mumbled, "and just look at all the time we bought you." He growled dryly as he sped towards Regina's home, ignoring the chorus of honks and screeches that exploded around them when he sped through a newly red light.

"Really, Gold." She said, her tone sincere. "Honestly, thank you. I was supposed to be at her house from sunrise to sunset six days a week. You bought me lots of time."

He glanced at the clock on the dash between them, doing the math. If she was supposed to be at Regina's two hours ago...

"Regina changed your times from sunrise to nine in the morning?" He hissed. "That's what? Two, three hours to find work, when most stores aren't even open?"

"She changed it from eight to six in the evening, too." She protested. "And she gave me Saturdays off."

He snorted. "Because those are opportune times to find employment. What is she going to do when you actually _find_ a job?"

"Saying she doesn't just immediately change the times back for me being so late?" She grumbled, avoiding his gaze as he pulled into Regina's expansive drive and stopped the car. She seemed surprised when he got out with her.

"What are you doing?" She asked, watching as he retrieved his cane and limped quickly around the vehicle to her.

He rested his free hand reassuringly on the small of her back, leading her towards Regina's home. "Keeping my promise. I won't let her kill you, Belle, just relax."

The door opened before they'd even reached it, and he felt Belle flinch beneath his fingers. They both stopped in their tracks when Henry came rushing out, jumping off the stoop and running towards them.

"Belle!" He shouted, and Gold was knocked off balance when Henry slammed into Belle, giving her a hug that made her stumble. "Where have you been?"

Belle looked just as surprised as Gold felt, stroking the boys hair, her whole body tense as she searched the doorway over his head. "I lost track of time. Your mother, is she-"

"I covered for you." He responded, sounding pleased with himself as he beamed up at her. "She had to go to work before you were supposed to get here, so when she called to check I told her you were making me lunch. It's okay, Belle, really. She bought it."

"Oh, Henry." Belle said, bending and giving the boy a tight hug. "Thank you. She would have killed me."

"You lied to your own mother for someone you barely know?" Gold asked, trying to ignore the envy bubbling up in his stomach as Belle hugged Henry. He was_ a child_, for God's sake. There was no reason to be jealous. He forced the emotion down, eyeing him warily. "Why?"

_"Gold!" _Belle exclaimed, gaping at him. "Where are your manners? He just saved me from a ton of trouble!"

Henry's expression was unexpected when Gold looked down at the boy, all surprise and interest and fascination, and Gold was irritated at the way he kept looking from Belle to himself and back. He could _see_ the boys mind working behind his eyes, and he wondered what could possibly be so interesting to make him stare, why there was a sudden grin blooming across his face, why-

He watched as the pieces fell into place and realization dawned on Henrys face, and his heart crawled into his throat. The book. Of course, the _stupid fucking fairy tale book_.

_Oh, shit._

"I knew it!" Henry shouted joyfully, backing away from Belle and looking at the two of them. "I knew you both were in my book, I just didn't know how! It's so obvious now!"

"We're in a book?" Belle asked, laughing. "What book?"

Gold tried to think of a reason, _any reason_, to get her away from Henry before he could destroy the precarious wall he'd built around he and Belle's history, but the boy was too quick.

"Everyone in town has another life they don't remember." Henry explained, beaming. "I have a book that tells stories about you all! Do you want to see it?"

"It's just a book of fairy tales," Gold said dismissively before Henry could even finish his sentence, trying to ignore the shock on Belle's face at Henry's words. She'd turned to him immediately, searching his face, and it had taken all of his resolve not to look at her and give credit to the burning curiosity that he could _feel_ emanating from her. "Nothing to get worked up about."

Belle looked between the two of them as Henry frowned at Gold. "It's real!" He insisted. "And you're both in it!"

"Fairy tales?" Belle said with amusement, and Gold's heart crawled down to his feet at her next question. "Who are we, Henry? I bet I've heard of the tale."

"Isn't it obvious?" Henry asked. "Just think about it—"

"It doesn't matter." Gold said, cutting Henry off again. He turned to her. "Belle, the boy is in therapy for this, don't encourage these delusions—"

"They aren't delusions!" Henry cried, upset. "Emma believes me, and she isn't the only one!"

"She's just humoring you, boy." Gold growled, glaring at him.

"Gentleman!" Belle said loudly over both of them, making them both jump. She waited until she had both of their attentions before she spoke again, giving Gold one of her terrifying looks that saw right through him. She took his arm roughly, stepping away with him before she smiled at Henry. "Henry, Mr. Gold and I need to speak privately for a moment, alright? We'll be right back."

Henry was watching the two of them interact with fascination, all anger gone as Belle led Gold around to the other side of the car, leaning forward so they couldn't be overheard.

"Gold," She whispered. "What's going on with you? He's a child."

"Nothing." He snapped before changing tactics, eyes widening in what he hoped looked like innocent surprise. "I just don't want the boy to get the wrong idea. Why?"

"Don't lie to me, Gold, you're shitty at it." She hissed. "You looked like you were about to collapse when he mentioned the book. Does this book and his 'delusions'-" She made air quotes around the word. "Have anything to do with your story? It sounds awfully similar. Two lives, one of which no one in town remembers—"

"They're fairy tales." He growled. "From a child's storybook."

"—One of which apparently involves both of us. If it's not a big deal, then why don't you just let him show it to me?" She crossed her arms.

He watched Belle warily, realizing that there was no avoiding the situation now that he'd stepped so foolishly into it. _Damn_ his shitty poker face. He switched tactics. If he couldn't play off the books importance, then he could at least try to shield her from it.

"Okay, fine. It _might_ be relatable to my story." He hedged quickly, putting his hands on her upper arms and rubbing them gently. "I can't stop you from reading it. But you need to take the story with a grain of salt, alright?" He couldn't keep the worry from his tone, his voice trembling as he spoke quietly. She was going to find out about them; about monstrous, murdering Rumplestiltskin and his poor princess turned slave of a maid, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than for their history to be erased from the world.

"Woah," She said, eyes widening at his sudden change. "Wait, so it _is? _I wasn't expecting-_"_

"I've never read the book." He explained. "I don't know where it came from. But from what I've heard, yes, it's fairly accurate. But Belle, again, this is very important. Take it with a grain of salt. _Please."_

"Wait a minute." She started at him, taking in his trembling hands and pale face before laughing in astonished amusement, leaning forward and nudging his jaw with her nose playfully. "Are you _frightened? _Of a child's book? Calm down, Gold. I mean honestly, how bad could it be?_"_

"Are you two True Loves in this world, too?" Came Henry's voice from not five feet away, making them both jump. The boy must have become tired of waiting, because he stood at the rear of the car, watching them with wide-eyed interest.

He hadn't noticed they'd been moving closer together as they spoke, but they were nearly curled against one another, and when he jerked away from her she mirrored his movements, looking startled.

"Bad." Mouthed Gold while Henry's gaze was directed to Belle, watching as Belle's entire face turned scarlet as she registered what the boy had asked them.

"I-I'm sorry?" Belle sputtered.

"True loves. In my book, you two fall under the spell of True Love, which is the most powerful magic." He explained, beaming up at her. He hesitated when she just gawked at him, looking embarrassed.

"But… here you're cursed, so I guess it's not the same. You don't _know_ you're supposed to be together." Henry said, looking between Belle and Gold before adding with a bright smile, "Are you guys dating?"

"No." Came Gold's instant reply, the same time Belle said, "Well—"

They gawked at one another in shock, Henry suddenly forgotten, and he wondered vaguely what his expression looked like. She'd politely rejected him even this morning. What in the hell did 'well' mean? He was fascinated and ill and hopeful all at once, and the whole world suddenly felt very far away. "No?" Belle asked quietly, looking alarmed.

"Well-?" Gold retorted, equally so. His heart was pounding. "Well what?"

"Uh, guys?" Henry asked, looking at the two of them in concern before something caught his eye, and he took a step back. "Uh oh."

The two of them followed his gaze, and they all flinched at the sight of a black car paused at a stop sign at the end of the block.

"Shit," Gold growled, digging in his pocket for his keys. "Regina. I can't be here. I need to go. You two need to get inside, before she realizes that Belle hasn't been here all morning."

"Gold, wait-" Belle said, reaching for him, but he took a few steps back towards his car door, shaking his head.

"No time. It'll have to wait." The words came out in a tumble as he threw the car door open, leaving Belle and Henry standing at the rear of the car staring at him. He got halfway into the car before he registered the wounded, fragile look that had been on Belle's face, and he rushed back to her and planted a rough, crushing kiss on her lips, squeezing her arms beneath his callused hands.

"We'll talk. Enjoy the story. Grain of salt, remember." He whispered, searching her eyes, and she nodded the tiniest bit, looking dazed. Regina had just pulled onto the street behind him when he started the car, hands trembling as he sped away. Under normal circumstances would have been more than happy to stick around and fight with Regina; except that he wasn't running from her. He was being a coward, he knew; escaping at the first sign of an exit. He didn't care.

For the first time in memory, he was exceptionally grateful for Regina's interruption. He needed time to think.

"What the fuck does "Well" mean?" He growled to himself from between his teeth.

* * *

He completely, utterly, one hundred percent did _not_ need time to think.

The realization of that knowledge had come immediately. The door to his shop had barely closed before his phone had rang, and his trembling legs gave out as he fished it from his pocket and dropped gratefully into one of the chairs beside the fireplace.

"Hello?" He snapped, trying to sound bored and failing.

"What the hell were you doing at my house?" Regina demanded on the other end. "Don't think I didn't see you."

"Visiting Belle," He replied easily, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the chair.

"I see." She was silent for a minute before continuing, and he could _feel _her smugness coming through the phone line. "Speaking of your girl, my son was showing her a rather fascinating story when I left." She said sweetly, and he felt faint as he responded, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Was he now?"

"Yes."

"From that lovely book he won't share with you, I'm going to assume?" He purred, amused when the other line went silent. "It's no secret that your boy keeps things from you, Regina."

"That makes two of us, then." She said darkly. "I know you haven't seen it, either. Your girl sounded pretty alarmed by the things my son was reading to her, though." He felt as if his heart had stopped in his chest, and he had to bite his cheek to respond.

"You sound very nonchalant about your boy spreading rumors about the curse. You'd think that would be something you would want covered up, Regina."

"Normally, I'd be upset. But with you?" She laughed. "Who are you and your girl going to tell, Gold? You aren't a part of this game."

He rolled his eyes, trying to force his heart to beat at a normal rhythm as she continued. "I heard a rumor you two were getting chummy, but once she hears what a monster you are...What a shame you made Belle late this morning. I bet Henry would have never brought up your history if he hadn't seen you together."

His blood ran cold as he slowly sat up. "You knew she was late." He said softly.

"Maybe."

"You _wanted_ me to drop her off. You wanted Henry to see us together." His voice was slowly raising to a roar, and he stood and began to pace. "What game are you playing, Regina?"

Her voice was amused, and he could see the petulant little pout she was making as she replied with exaggerated sweetness. "Why, the same one we've always played, Rumple."

"You bitch." He growled.

"Now, now, Rumple. Watch your language." She scolded, sounding cheerful a moment later. "You know, I think I'm going to keep Belle late today, since she was so tardy arriving this morning. I hope you don't worry _too _much about the new information your girl has on you."

The line went dead, and Gold sunk back into his seat, his face in his hands. Of course Regina's interference hadn't been a blessing, giving him time to sort things out. What had he been thinking? He didn't need time to sort things out, he needed _answers_, and he'd turned tail and run from them the second they were offered to him that morning. Now he'd probably never find out what came after 'well'.

_Idiot,_ He thought to himself. _Coward. _

He had never wanted _less_ time to think, but now he was stuck with it.

* * *

He was climbing the walls by that evening.

He'd propped the door open to the shop all day, just in case Belle had any concerns about being welcome, but as it got dark it got unseasonably cold, and he'd had to shut it. He'd kept every light on and the door unlocked for another hour. He was committed to keeping the shop open and waiting for her to arrive, but after he made a quick trip upstairs to make himself a pot of tea at nine and came back down to find a brazen young Storybrooke citizen pawing through his shop, he changed his mind.

It hadn't taken much to scare the young woman away, but the furious shouting and menacing way he'd approached her had sent her running from the shop with a terror that made him feel a little better. Even so, he'd been forced to lock the shop after that, realizing that his frayed patience didn't leave room for dealing with customers brave enough to wander in.

At eleven, he finally gave up on waiting, turning off the lights and going upstairs. If she decided she _wanted_ to see him after everything they'd discussed today, a locked door and darkness wasn't going to stop her. She had a key. She was resourceful.

She hated him, he decided at midnight.

She was an intelligent young woman, beautiful and cunning, and it wouldn't take much for her to hear the end of Henry's story and realize that the reason he'd avoided telling her details about them was because he had been a _fucking murdering lunatic who had blackmailed her into eternal servitude to him_.

If the story didn't disgust her, the end would. No woman would hear a tale about such a coldhearted man and not think twice, let alone one where the man locked her in a dungeon before unceremoniously rejecting her and throwing her back to a cruel world that now feared her for her association with him.

She didn't need her memories to hear that story and turn tail, especially when he'd made the mistake early on in _telling_ her some of it. If he'd never mentioned their past, they could have avoided all of this. _Damn_ it.

There wasn't even going to be a discussion about their awkward stalemate with Henry, no matter how desperately he wanted to know what words came after _Well-_. He should have stayed. He shouldn't have been a coward. _He should have burned down Regina's house to destroy the book, killing Regina for good measure, and then-_

"Gold?"

He could hear her walking around the shop downstairs, her voice carrying through the open doors of the stairwell. He spun on his heel, heart pounding. Oh, shit. She was here. _She was here._

* * *

**Whew, almost didn't get this one done on time. Life has gotten a little stressful lately, but hopefully I'll be able to get the next one out on schedule. Thank you so much for all of your sweet comments, and I'm glad you enjoyed the end of the last chapter as much as I did! ;) Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think! **

**Also, I've started a new high AU fic entitled "Fable", so check that out if you're interested in some Rockstar Rumplestiltskin goodness. As always, thanks for the read!**


	13. Chapter 13

"Belle." He called, and he heard her footfalls on the stairs a moment later. She was _flying_ up the stairs, by the sound of it, and he tangled his hands together, squeezing his fingers until they hurt. This was it.

He caught sight of her brown curls a moment before she appeared, and whatever he had planned to say died on his lips as she slammed the door to the stairs behind her and headed right for him in a single, graceful movement.

"Gold," She crooned, her eyes predatory as she stalked him.

He took several steps back before he could stop himself, putting his hands up. In that moment, he was well and truly afraid, and he searched her guarded, hungry expression for any sign of what she'd been told. "Belle, I can explain—"

"Explain?" She repeated, tugging off her jacket and throwing it carelessly to the floor without removing her gaze from his. "I don't want your explanations."

"What did he tell you?" Gold asked. She had him trapped against the wall with nowhere to go, and it took all his resolve not to flinch away from her when she put her hands on either side of his head and stared at him.

"A lot of things." She breathed, taking him off guard with her strange tone. She didn't seem overly _upset_, but he watched her nervously as she leaned forward.

"Why didn't you tell me we were Beauty and the Beast?" She asked, stopping when he face was inches from his, and he stared at her for several long seconds in incomprehension before he found his voice.

"W-What?" He finally choked out. "Beauty and the—"

"Beast, yeah." She said. She slowly leaned an elbow against the wall beside his head so they were separated from head to foot by a hairs breadth, and she scraped the nails of her free hand gently across his face, tracing his features and completely unnerving him in the process. "It was silly, at first, and it wasn't the traditional story I'd heard about them. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It sounds like whatever you read explained things more simply than I could have." He answered, hedging around her question and hoping he was answering her well enough that she wouldn't have follow-up questions. "Having lived it, I can tell you truthfully that we didn't have a story title plastered over our heads the whole time."

"I guess that makes sense." Belle murmured distractedly, tracing up his jaw to his temple with her nails. "It was kind of a ridiculous story, to be honest, but it worked so _well_ with the one you'd told me, and then, all of a sudden..."

She leaned her body against his, setting his blood on fire at the slight touch. She pressed her fingers to his face, and he realized distractedly that he would have been beyond aroused if he didn't have an irrational fear that she was going to claw his eyes out when she finished speaking. He swallowed convulsively. "And then?"

She tucked her fingers beneath his chin, tilting his face up so she had his full attention. It was a silly gesture, because she'd had every single ounce of it since she'd called his name, but he made it as obvious as he could that he was listening before she continued.

"I found myself believing it."

He stared at her in shock.

"You believe me." He breathed, and his stomach tightened at the thought. A month ago, he'd have given _anything_ for her to believe him, but now it filled him with anxiety. If she was willing to believe him, would she be willing to forgive him for things she didn't remember? "You finally believe me."

"Yes. I believe you."

"And you weren't—you aren't…upset?"

"Why would I be?" She asked, voice filled with yearning and wonder as she leaned forward and followed the path her fingers had taken a minute before with her lips. He trembled at her touch; her delicate, purposeful ministrations finally working through the shroud of his fears, and the fire in his blood shot down his frame and settled in his groin. He groaned softly.

He was going to have to find out what was in the book. He _needed_ to know what she'd been told, but at the moment he was far too relieved that whatever it was had been positive enough for her to pin him to the wall and shower him with her strange, aggressive brand of affection, and he wasn't about to push his luck by asking her to explain.

"I don't know what was in that book," He hissed when she nibbled on his ear a moment later, and his hands reached up and tangled in her hair, legs weak over the way she was pressing herself against him. "But I'm damn thankful for whatever it told you."

His mouth found the soft flesh of her neck as she rubbed herself against him, and he laved her skin with his tongue hungrily, his mind a scattered haze of relief and lust as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him. Her nails traced down his back, making him arch against her, and when he tilted his head back in response she captured his mouth with her own, tongue snaking eagerly between his parted lips.

They were crushed against the wall, pawing unceremoniously at each other by the time she broke off the kiss, narrowing her wild eyes as she leaned back and looked at him angrily.

"No?" She panted, and he stared at her in shock.

"No?" He repeated, upset. "Do you want to stop?"

She shook her head, her eyes dark as she studied him, running a hand through his hair and scratching his scalp gently as she did so. Her voice, even dark and rough with lust, held unmistakable fragility. "Earlier. When Henry asked us—you said no."

"I got some advice telling me it would be a poor decision to force you into anything." He mumbled distractedly, leaning forward and nibbling gently on her throat again. He wanted desperately to finish their conversation from that afternoon, but his mind was hazy with desire and he had no intention of stopping to think with her pressed against him.

She writhed under his hungry touches, and he was vaguely amused that she seemed to be trying to fight against the events she'd started. "_You _asked for advice from someone?" She asked between breathless gasps. "Who—"

"Emma." He said, wanting the name out of his mouth and his mind. It didn't belong coming from his lips when his tongue was tracing the delicate muscles in her throat. "She told me I needed to be patient and not ask things of you."

"_Emma_?" She growled, and he hated hearing the name coming from her just as much as he had from himself. Belle seemed to be speaking between her teeth, her hands distractedly stroking his hair as he kissed his way down her collarbone. "Why would she say that?"

"You were being so guarded about everything," He murmured, nuzzling his face against her shoulder. "She told me it was stupid of me to assume that you wanted anything more than casual sex—"

"_Casual sex?" _Belle hissed suddenly, pulling away. Her hands were fists, and she looked _furious_. "She told you that because I had just left my fiancé, that I must have climbed into bed with you for some _casual rebound sex, _and for you to be happy with it and not make demands?!"

He studied her, the fog in his mind giving way to dismay, and then confusion. "It was more of a mutual agreement, but—why? I _should_ have been patient. You came to me looking for solace, Belle, and I-"

"You what, Gold?" She demanded, leaning back to look at him. "Were a perfect gentleman. Took me in out of pure kindness—"

"It wasn't completely kindness." He said. "Besides, you had just left your fiancé, and I should have—"

"I left Richard for _you."_ She snapped, looking mortified once the words were out.

He stared at her, hands frozen just above her hips, lust completely forgotten. "You _what?"_

When she tried to pull away he tucked his fingers into her belt loops and pulled her against him, freeing a hand so he could tilt her chin up to look at him. She avoided his gaze. "No, Belle. Sweetheart, look at me. You _what?_"

Her eyes widened as she met his stare. "I left him for you." She whispered, her lower lip quivering at his harsh tone.

He leaned forward, trapping her chin between his fingers when she tried to look away and putting his face an inch from hers. He couldn't keep the disbelief from his voice. He should be _happy_, but years upon years of self-loathing controlled his tongue as he spoke.

"Why? What could I possibly offer you, Belle? I've done nothing but ruin things for you since we met."

She must have sensed his mood, because she tensed at his question, sounding almost annoyed when she spoke. She watched him carefully.

"Don't be an ass, Gold. You make me feel safe."

"I don't understand," He replied after a moment. "You left your fiancé because I make you feel _safe?"_

She swatted at the hand that was holding her chin before continuing. "I've lived my whole life under the thumb of others, Gold. Dependent, being told what I can and can't do, having all my decisions made for me. And then one day out of the blue, there you are. Kind, gentle, endearing. Giving me free reign over every little thing, even when I was completely overstepping my boundaries with you and generally being a pain in the ass."

Her voice became sweet as she spoke, as if the mere thought of him pleased her, and he didn't know what to think. "Richard was furious when you dropped me off that first day; that his shut-in treasure had been mingling with the—" She laughed lightly, her eyes distant. "The town _Beast. _But you weren't a monster, not to me. You'd invited me in for tea and given me the opportunity to get out of the house to read. You'd brought light into my dark little world."

The way she spoke the word 'beast' made it sound like a caress; like an endearment rather than an earned and snide nickname he'd carried most of his life, and the corner of his lip twitched upwards in the barest of smiles. He needed to _thank_ Henry for whatever had been in that damn book, if it made her speak about him like that.

"Go on," He coaxed, sensing that her story wasn't done. It was more than he'd ever hoped to hear her say, but he was a greedy man. He wanted more. They'd danced around the issue for far too long, and he wasn't going to let her out of his arms until there wasn't a single misunderstanding left between them.

Her embarrassment seemed to be both better and worse, and she took a deep breath, puffing out her cheeks before she continued. "I don't know. I was drawn to you, and even when I was imposing myself on you at every turn you kept finding ways of making me feel welcome…like you _wanted_ me here, rather than just tolerating me. Like you were an actual friend, instead of someone who was just waiting for me to serve a purpose. That feeling, it's—I've never felt that before."

"Oh, Belle." He murmured, caressing her cheek. "You deserve so much better than the life you've been given."

She shrugged, resting her cheek on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her as they leaned against the wall, lost in their own thoughts. They were quiet for a few minutes before he spoke, bringing them back to the matter at hand.

"Belle, look." He said, clearing his throat. "I'm a monster, a true beast, and I don't deserve you, but if you want—" He hesitated, suddenly sidetracked. Was he really, honestly about to offer himself up to date her, like he was doing her a favor by giving her the opportunity? _Really?_

The realization was so ridiculous, and he was so amused and nervous and relieved that a hysteric little snigger left his lips before he could swallow it, and Belle leaned back and stared at him as if he'd just spat fire. He was mortified.

"Are you alright?" She asked slowly, and the way she quirked an eyebrow at him made him want to giggle again, but he forced it down. This was no time to let Rumplestiltskin out, and no matter how much she'd enjoyed their story there was a vast difference between a tale and the real thing.

He took a deep breath to steady himself before he fixed her with a solemn look. "Belle, I know this hasn't been the most traditional course, but I'd be honored if you let me court you properly." He said, catching her off guard. He was hurt when she stared at him in surprise, jaw going slack before she threw her head back and laughed.

He watched her for a moment, bewildered, before he stammered out, "What did I say?"

"You." She sniggered behind her hand, sitting up rigidly and imitating his accent. "Allow me to court you like a fair virgin maiden, oh woman I've now fucked twice." He narrowed his eyes at her, disliking her joke until she smiled good-naturedly at him.

"Really, Gold. So _formal_. Don't you think it's a little unnecessary?" He leaned back against the wall, awkward and embarrassed, until she pressed herself against him and nuzzled his nose with her own reassuringly.

"Don't pout, Gold. I just meant that to ask so formally is silly when we've been an unofficial couple for a while now. What is there left that we have yet to do? Does it matter that much?"

"It matters to me." He grumbled, trying to ignore butterflies that burst into life at her 'unofficial couple' comment. "Even if it doesn't to you."

"I didn't say it didn't matter to me." She said, sounding offended. "I'm just saying that there is a difference between _courting_ and _dating."_

"Courting leads to dating," He muttered. "Typically."

"Maybe a hundred years ago it did. Besides, I think we've bypassed the courting stage, since that _typically_ leads to sex, and I blew that milestone out of the water as far as doing things in the proper order goes."

"Don't care." He complained. "I want the right to court you. Take you out to nice dinners and the like, one of which I believe I already owe you."

"And the dating?" She asked. "I suppose you're going to have demands about that, too."

"They can coincide." He responded. "That's fair. Do we have a deal?"

"I never even agreed on the courting bit," She complained. "And now you want to add in more?"

He fixed her with an even stare. "I'd like an answer, yes."

She rolled her eyes. "Again, you're being ridiculously formal about all of this, Gold."

"Just the same." He pressed his forehead against hers, running his hands up and down her arms, trying to keep the pouting tone from his voice. "I'd like the reassurance."

"The man who instantly replied "no" when asked directly not twelve hours ago wants reassurance on whether or not he's dating the woman he so publicly denied?" She asked, and he frowned at her, refusing to rise to her teasing and take something said in jest the wrong way.

"Yes, and if memory serves, you didn't exactly say yes, so, again, I think I'm entitled to a bit of reassurance."

"My answer was more "yes" than yours was." She snapped.

" 'Well' Is no more a yes than no is." He growled. "Answer me, Belle. Please. You're driving me crazy."

She leaned back, and he watched as the teasing expression left her face, replaced by soft amusement. "Fine. Yes."

He could feel the slow smile growing on his face. "Yes?"

She nodded, leaning forward and pressing her lips tenderly against his. "Yes."

A deep-seeded burden he'd been carrying since long before he'd been reunited with her eased at her words, and he shuddered against her lips as his fingers gently carded through her long hair. He languidly pressed his lips against hers again and again, needing the reassurance that he was welcome, that she was however flimsily _his, _and that she wasn't going to reject him and run for the hills without warning.

Kissing her suddenly held a new layer to it; a deeper, sweet note that soothed the pain he'd endured since he'd found her again, and it was addicting. Now that he was allowed, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to stop, and he didn't want to.

It wasn't until she buried her hands in his hair, tugging hard enough to hurt and grinding her hips against his, whimpering, that he drew back, suddenly realizing what his desperate little kisses were doing to her.

"Gold," She growled, eyes dark with hunger as she pressed her hips against his again and rubbed against his hardening erection. "If you keep kissing me like that, _teasing me_, you're going to be pissed with me in the morning."

He was taken by surprise, pulling away from her enough so that he could see her face but not enough for her to worry that he was rejecting her again, wrapping his hands around her waist. He was too turned on by the fact that the wonderful woman in his arms was _his_ to be concerned about her threatening him with love bites. "Didn't we just come to the agreement that I get to court you before we do this again?"

Her answering snarl was enough to make him crazy, but the way her lips crushed against his with desperate lust drove him entirely over the edge.

"Okay," He gasped when she finally let him breathe, although he'd have been perfectly content to asphyxiate so long as it was against her mouth, especially with the way her nails had scraped down his spine through his shirt. "You win."

"At least you're easy to convince." She responded with a relieved sigh, taking his hand and leading him to his bed, radiating smugness. Her mouth found his easily in the semi-darkness when she stopped at the edge of the bed, and her fingers clawed at his belt when his hands found the hem of her cardigan.

"No so fast," He murmured against her lips, moving his hips away from her and stilling her hands with his own. "Not this time, Belle."

"Why?" She growled, squirming. "I want you, Gold. Let me have you."

He surprised her by hooking his good leg around hers and tugging, sending them both tumbling onto his sheets. He smirked down at her triumphantly.

"You'll find I can be convinced of a great many things, Miss French." He purred, leaning down and tracing her throat with his nose. "But I can also be quite convincing, and I say that I don't want this over so quickly."

She trembled, her hands tearing at his tie as he slowly moved his mouth over her throat, tasting the sweetness of her skin with languid strokes of his tongue.

"Gold." She whimpered, rubbing her hips against his thigh, and he shushed her by dipping his head and nipping at her collarbone.

"Shush, Belle. Just relax." He murmured, trying his hardest to ignore the way his cock was already throbbing against the confines of his clothing, digging his bad knee into the mattress as his hands toyed at the hem of her cardigan again, brushing his fingertips against the smooth plane of her belly.

She surprised him by sitting up and tugging the sweater over out of his hands and over her head, tossing it across the room. Her jeans followed suit a moment later after an impressive shimmying maneuver with her lower half, and she was suddenly bare beneath him save a black, lacy bra and matching panties.

"There," She said with a pleased sigh, sprawling out luxuriously beneath him. "Much better. Now will you please, _please _just touch me?"

"Christ," He groaned, gawking at her, struck dumb as he took in her perfectly curved form, admiring the way the light through the window glinted off her ivory skin. Both time's they'd had sex-well, at least the one time he could remember-she'd been clothed as much as possible, too hungry to wait for clothes to be removed to have him, and it was with awe that he traced the smooth plane of her stomach with his fingertips. He'd never doubted it, but she was just so _beautiful._

He hissed between his teeth when she reached down and cupped him through his trousers, his hips bucking against her hand as she knocked him from his revered trance. "You're going to be the death of me, Belle."

"I will be if you don't stop staring and get back down here," She replied, reaching up and grabbing a fistful of his dress shirt, tugging. He complied quickly, letting her hands fumble with the buttons on his shirt as he explored the smooth, flawless skin of her chest. She was furtively trying to pull the thing from his shoulders, whimpering and grinding her hips against his thigh when he settled his mouth over the top of her breast, biting down gently, and she froze beneath him with a strangled noise.

"Gold!"

He thought he'd hurt her at first, relieved when she arched her back, pressing her chest against his mouth eagerly. He laved the love mark he'd created with his tongue, swirling it over the red spot before reaching back and unclasping her bra, tugging it off before taking a nipple in his mouth and pressing the sensitive bud between his teeth. She writhed beneath him, her voice taking on a tone he'd never heard before.

"Please," She gasped with something that sounded like awe, her hands fluttering along his shoulders while he patiently waited for her to relax beneath him. "Could you—could you do that again?" He thought he'd hurt her at first, relieved when she arched her back, pressing her chest against his mouth eagerly. He laved the love mark he'd created with his tongue, swirling it over the red spot before reaching back and unclasping her bra, tugging it off before taking a nipple in his mouth and pressing the sensitive bud between his teeth. She writhed beneath him, her voice taking on a tone he'd never heard before.

"Please," She whimpered, clutching at him desperately. "Don't stop. Please don't _ever_ stop."

He was all too happy to comply, settling himself between her legs as he worshipped her breasts, kneading the flesh in his hands as he lapped and nibbled, listening as her soft moans became hungry and impassioned, her hands tangling in the sheets as she writhed beneath him.

It wasn't until she began whimpering desperate pleas that he snaked a hand down between her legs, scraping his nails up her inner thigh towards her panties teasingly, and she came apart at the unexpected touch before he'd even arrived at his destination. Her back arched as she cried out, climaxing so hard she convulsed beneath him, crying his name over and over again as she came.

He settled down to her side, holding her to his chest as she trembled, her breath coming in ragged little sobs as she pressed her face against him.

"Holy shit," She gasped once when it had passed. "That was—intense. You didn't even touch me."

She sounded just as in awe as he felt, and he couldn't help the little bit of pride that swelled up in him, unbidden. "You sound surprised."

"I've never—that's never happened before." She breathed as another tremor rocked her body. "I didn't know that could happen." She squirmed beside him. "You know…without you inside me."

He raised his head to look at her, shocked. "Where in the world would you get an idea like that?"

She studiously avoided his gaze, not responding, but the answer was clear in her silent response. He was immediately blinded by rage. "That fucking _bastard_." He snarled, and Belle's eyes snapped up to his in fright at his tone. "What kind of monstrous…how could a man tell such a bold-faced _lie_ to someone who trusts them so explicitly?!"

"Gold," She whispered, and he snapped his gaze down to her, teeth bared in rage. He softened immediately when she shrank away from him, and he was stricken by how fragile she looked, curled naked against his side.

"Belle," He breathed, reaching down and brushing her hair from her face apologetically. Inwardly, he was still quaking with rage, but he forced it out of sight for her sake. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't let my temper get the best of me, but goddamnit, he _used_ you. He lied to you so you'd be forced to sleep with him rather than to find your own pleasure without him."

"Oh," was all she said, her eyes wide as he lay down and stretched out beside her. "I didn't—I didn't know."

Forcing his murderous rage into a mental box a promise to return to it, he sealed it away and watched as she snuggled into his side, pulling the sheet up around her chest self-consciously. She was an intelligent young woman, damnit. She should have _known_ about the things that were possible. Had she never had a salacious dream; woken up filled with desire? She was a bookworm; how had she avoided an entire genre of books? _His_ Belle, the sheltered little princess, had even known, so how in the _hell _had she-

_Sheltered,_ He realized with a start, his heart breaking for her. _She's been sheltered under the curse for twenty eight years._ He reached out and stroked his fingertips down her face. _She may as well be a virgin_.

He hated himself for the way his body's needs roared back to life as she tipped her face up and kissed him, realizing the truth of his thoughts, but he forced down the self-loathing and replaced it with hope and chivalry and protectiveness. He might not have been her technical first; may have missed out on seeing her safely through that milestone, but he was here now. He could see to it that the rest were done _right._

He relaxed against her when her tongue stroked his lower lip tentatively, and she seemed emboldened when he shrugged off his shirt at her gentle coaxing and wrapped his arms around her rather than pulling away when their kiss was through. She leaned up, tracing his jaw with her lips as her fingers trailed down his bare stomach, and he felt better knowing he wasn't only one whose hunger had returned. He groaned when her fingertips slid under the waistband of his trousers.

"Belle," He growled, tipping his head back against the sheets when he felt his belt come undone a moment later.

"Shh, Gold. Please, let me do this. I _need_ this." She pleaded, silencing him with a soft kiss, and he immediately embarrassed himself by bucking his hips against her fingers when she tugged off his pants and boxers.

She chuckled hungrily at his inability to follow directions, her lips pressing tentatively against his chest as her hand wrapped around his length and gently squeezed. He groaned and clenched his jaw, using every shred of his control to not roll over and take her immediately. If she needed this, he needed to play along. He needed to at least _try_.

She settled herself on his thighs and he made a strangled, pained noise when her hand stroked him from base to tip once, clenching his eyes shut. He tried to thrust into her hand, but her weight on his legs stopped him, and he fisted his hands in the sheets instead, writhing.

When her hand didn't move after a moment, he peeked his eyes open and saw her watching him, fascination and dark lust in her eyes at his bodies response to her. Their gaze was locked when she licked her lips, moving her hand over him again a moment later, and he tipped his head back and moaned, helpless.

"Belle," He pleaded when she repeated the pattern several times, always pausing to observe his reactions with obvious interest. He placed a trembling hand over hers, stilling her ministrations. "You need to stop—you're driving me insane. It's too much. "

"What do you want?" She asked, and her purring, husky tone had him biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

_Holy shit_, He realized with awe. _She's enjoying this._

She distracted him from his thoughts when she reached down with her free hand and stroked the tip of his cock, squeezing gently with the hand that was still trapped under his.

"You," He mewled, all pretense of control gone under the knowledge that she was teasing him on purpose. "Christ, Belle. You. Please. _Please._"

They both made strangled sounds when she lifted herself up, taking him entirely inside her in one swift motion at his pleading. He jerked upright at the sensation, and he wrapped his arms around her as she pressed her forehead against his, holding her tightly in his lap.

She began to move against him at a frenzied pace, lifting herself up on her knees before slamming back down against him, and he squeezed her hips beneath his fingers with bruising intensity as he guided her. He didn't last long, his body far too sensitized after her touches, and he snaked a hand between her legs when he was close, finding and teasing the sensitive bud of nerves directly above where they were joined between his fingers.

"Come for me, Belle," He begged, relieved when she cried out and buried her face against his shoulder a moment later, spasming around him with almost painful intensity. He shuddered as he let himself go, exploding inside of her and crushing her body against his as he buried his face in her hair and snarled her name.

He was still seeing stars when Belle slid off of him and collapsed against his side some time later, and his arm numbly found its way around her waist.

"Gold," Belle whimpered, pressing her face against his throat as she trembled. "If that was sex-then what have I been _doing_ all this time?"

"It doesn't matter." He promised, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I'm here now, sweetheart."

He was here, and the second Belle's back was turned, he and Rumplestiltskin were going to be digging a shallow, unmarked grave in the woods.

* * *

**Thank you so much for all your kind words! I live to hear what you all think about the story, and it's truly unbelievable how much love this story has gotten. We're starting to get into the home stretch (Probably 5 Chapters left...ish?) , so please continue to let me know what you think!**

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**Also, if you haven't yet, please check out my other story Fable, if you're interested in some Rockstar!Rumbelle love. ;) Thanks!**


	14. Chapter 14

All the words in the world couldn't have prepared Gold for the bliss of waking up next to Belle the next morning.

It was staggering, the feeling of opening his eyes to find Belle curled up against his side with her head on his chest, fast asleep, knowing she was there because of him. Because she _chose_ to stay. It was like a fantasy, one that he'd cherished long before Storybrooke; to be able to wake up beside Belle and know that she _wanted_ to be there next to him.

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, watching the way the light coming through the blinds landed on the auburn strands. She seemed more at ease this morning; the dark smudges under her eyes still persisted, but he liked to think their talk had relaxed her, too. He hoped it had. He could easily spend all day curled up with her in bed, possessively guarding her dreams, now that he was allowed.

He very nearly threw his phone through the window when it startled her awake not five minutes later.

"Who was it?" Belle murmured, stretching herself awake beside him, and the tender, languid kiss she so casually planted on his lips helped alleviate any lingering fears he had about her bolting out of bed to get away from him.

"Dunno. "He pressed her tight against his side, running his tongue across her lower lip to beg entrance to her mouth. It could have been the pope calling and he'd have still declined the call without looking at the number so long as she was in bed with him, but she leaned back and wrinkled her nose.

"Worst businessman _ever, _Gold."

Gold leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose, rubbing his hand along her shoulder muscles until she relaxed against him with a pleased noise. "It's Sunday."

"So?"

He smiled wickedly at her. "I'm not doing business when I have you all to myself all day, Belle."

"Not _all_ day." Belle corrected, and he made a noise of complaint in his throat when she pulled away enough to meet his eyes. She was smiling. "I need to go job hunting still." The phone began to ring on the bedside table, and she gave him a quick, hard kiss before sitting up. "And _you_ need to answer your phone."

He'd have gladly let his business fall to the wayside and dueled Regina with swords in the town square to remove Belle's debt, but neither of those things would have made her happy, so he just grumpily grabbed the phone and accepted the call without glancing at the little screen.

"This is Mr. Gold."

A voice he didn't recognize was on the other end of the line, but he didn't understand a word the man said because Belle had taken that moment to slide out from under the sheets, and it wasn't until she turned around and swatted him playfully on his good knee as she sauntered into the bathroom that he remembered the phone in his hand. The man was still talking.

"I'm sorry," Gold replied distractedly, shaking himself to clear his mind. "Could you repeat that?"

"I said, I'm ready to sell."

The water turned on in the bathroom and distracted him all over again, thinking about Belle under the hot shower. He wondered if she'd let him join her. "And who is this?"

"Moe. From the gift shop on the strip. I'm ready to sell."

"Moe-" Gold blinked, suddenly placing the name, and he sat up and cleared his throat, the businessman in him finally waking up. "Wonderful. I'll bring the paperwork. When can we meet?"

* * *

As it turned out, Belle was more than happy to let him join her in the shower, and it wasn't until they'd worn out both the hot water and each other that they finally emerged. It was nearly an hour later that Gold remembered the phone call well enough to bring it up.

"I may have to do some work today after all," He hedged, offering Belle a bite of a freshly cooked blueberry pancake as she perched on the edge of the counter next to him. She'd been instructing him on how to cook a "proper meal," which apparently included adding ingredients to simple recipes, but they'd both been so hungry that not a single pancake had been adorned with butter or syrup, or even made it to a plate. He didn't mind in the slightest.

"Oh?" Belle purred, and there was suddenly nothing more he wanted to do _less_ than work when she gently licked the blueberry residue from his fingers.

"Tease," He growled between his teeth.

"Will it take long?"

He ground his teeth, using every last shred of his willpower and his bodies exhaustion to not pounce on her in the kitchen like an animal. Even when he was half-certain he could do no more than please her, it was an overwhelming urge. Belle deserved to be _pampered_.

"I hope not. Just dropping off paperwork and doing a walkthrough. I'm purchasing a shop on the main strip."

Belle was suddenly distracted, and he wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse, because she stopped her attentive affections on his hand and looked excited. "Oh! I was going to check on jobs on main street! Maybe we can go together?"

Gold's heart was suddenly beating in a very strange rhythm. "You...you want to come with me? In public?"

Her gentle kiss melted his bones, but the understanding, affectionate smile melted his soul. "There's nothing I would like more."

* * *

They managed to clean up breakfast and get their coats on without _too_ many distractions, but they both stopped in their tracks when he opened the door to his shop and found a thin layering of white covering the outside.

"Snow!" Belle cried, stepping out into the powdery substance with glee. It was unseasonable and wet; the delicate little footprints Belle left in the stuff left a view of the concrete below, but when he gathered his cane and stepped out into the smattering of snowfall he couldn't help but grin.

"I didn't know you liked snow," He teased. Belle had never expressed an interest in the stuff at the Dark Castle, and he found himself wondering if the trait was part of cursed Belle or if his little Lady had been holding out on him so many years ago.

"I _love_ it." Belle replied, putting out her arms and spinning in a circle, sending flakes scattering in the air before returning to his side. He noticed the very pointed stare of the couple on the sidewalk across the street when Belle stood on tiptoe to plant a lingering kiss on his mouth, and when they drew apart, she took his briefcase from him to grasp his free hand with hers and entwine their fingers.

Gold felt like a schoolboy; like he was breaking all the rules and no one could say a thing. Walking hand in hand with Belle down the street without fearing what people would think to see her with another man and an engagement ring on her finger.

The ring was gone. So was the man attached to it. Soon, that man would be gone _permenantly._ Now that he was able to hold onto Belle in public and steal kisses and not worry about the acidic whispers reaching Belle's ears, he never wanted to stop.

Belle tugged him to a stop before pointing her thumb at the first shop when they reached the strip; some flowery, feminine place with soaps and fragrances in the window. He could see his destination several shops down.

"You go ahead," She murmured against his lips. "I'm going to ask about my applications."

"I'll just be a few shops over," He promised, squeezing her hand before letting her go. "Meet you there?"

Belle winked at him. "Just try to avoid me."

* * *

Moe didn't seem to be in any better of spirits when Gold stepped through his door than he had been the last time they met, but Gold met the other mans narrowed eyes with a smile nonetheless. Nothing, not even this prickly shop owner, could ruin his day.

"Good afternoon," Gold called as he limped over, placing the briefcase on the counter to pop it open and retrieve the paperwork inside.

"If you say so." The man finished with the bouquet he was creating before wandering over and giving Gold a strange look. It seemed that the general public weren't the only ones to be disturbed by his good spirits, and that only served to elevate his mood further. The balding man glanced down at the enormous pile of paperwork Gold pulled from his briefcase. "What's all this?"

"Agreements and purchase contracts," Gold responded distractedly, offering them to the man. "Selling a property involves a lot of signatures and forms. May I have a look around while you fill them out?"

He didn't care about the state of the shop, but he wandered through it anyway as Moe poured over the paperwork. They were both merely attempting interest; there was no way the man would read through the entire contract before he signed it. It was likely the pudgy man had no laywer; Gold was one of the only in that profession in town, and he likely could have cheated the man out of the pavement under his feet and the clothes on his back if he'd been so inclined.

The shop was tiny; similar to Golds in that it too had an apartment over it for the shopkeep, as well as a small workshop in the back, and the very stirrings of an idea had just begun to take shape when he remembered that Belle would likely be glancing into the shops to find him. He quickly hurried back downstairs, where Moe was in the middle of a bog of paper, hastily signing his name to each piece. As Gold suspected, the man only gave each agreement a cursory glance before putting pen to ink.

The scent of flowers pervaded the very _walls_ of the place, and Gold looked around the shop in interest.

"What will you do with all these flowers once the shop is gone?" He wondered vaguely if the man would, out of laziness, include them in the contract. Belle would like them, if only for the few days they all lasted.

"Didn't peg you for a flower man," The older man replied.

"Not for me," Gold replied icily, stiffening at the man's acidic tone. He readjusted the handle on his cane, trying not to preen at his own confession. "I have a Lady who would enjoy them."

"Did you buy her, too?" The man asked conversationally, and Gold stiffened.

Ignoring him, Gold scooped up a handful of his completed paperwork to look through it, wondering if it was too late to steal the mans clothes off his back. The man had guts, to insult him to his face. That didn't stop him from severely disliking him.

"Look good?" The man grunted, pushing the last of the pages that required his attention towards Gold. "All this lawyer crap..."

"Fine, fine." Gold replied distractedly, glancing through several pages before he came to a printed name beside the man's illegible signature and he froze.

"Moe," He stammered, staring at the paper in disbelief. He turned it around and showed it to the man. "This here. What does it say?"

"My name." The man replied gruffly. "Moe. Moe French."

"French?" He repeated weakly, staring at the man with completely new idea. "Is that a-a common name?"

They both turned when the bell above the door chimed, and Gold felt his stomach drop at the intense, brilliant smile on Belle's face as she took the two of them in.

She rushed forward as Moe stepped around the counter, and Gold swallowed a curse when she wrapped her arms around the other man. "Papa! What a nice surprise!"

Moe was holding onto Belle like it had been years since he'd seen her, and the affection in his eyes was obvious. "Belle, my girl. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm here with Mr. Gold!" Belle responded, and she leaned back in her father's arms to nod towards him. "I didn't know you were selling your shop, papa. You should have told me!"

"Mr. Gold?" The pudgy mans eyes swiveled up to take him in, and Gold couldn't help but bristle. "Belle, what are you doing with him?"

Belle didn't see the instant that realization dawned on her father's face, but Gold could, and it took all of his willpower to not snatch Belle out of his arms. His tone took on unmistakable disgust. "You aren't...you aren't _with _this monster, are you?!"

"Papa!" Belle scolded, backing out of Moe's embrace, and Gold prowled forward to wrap his arms around Belle from behind. No one was allowed to speak with his Belle like that, not even her own father. He watched as the man's beady eyes widened at the possessive gesture, and an ugly expression twisted his face.

He jabbed a finger in Gold's direction. "You. Get out of my shop."

Gold's lip twisted up in a smile, and he grabbed one of the papers still scattered around the counter to wave at the other man. "This is _my_ shop."

"Gentleman."Belle's cold tone surprised him, and when she wiggled out of his grasp a moment later he let his arms drop to his sides, doing his best not to flinch. He'd heard her use that tone before. That tone only meant bad things.

She reassured him a moment later when she turned and put a hand on his cheek, ignoring the explicit complaint that her father made. "Mr. Gold, will you step into the other room for a moment? I need to speak with my papa."

"As you wish." He never needed a reason to kiss her, but when he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers he knew it was only to spite her father. When he pulled away a moment later, he almost smirked to see that the other man's face was nearly purple with rage.

Gold had barely disappeared behind the door to the storeroom when Moe's voice exploded in the small space, demanding answers. As much as he wanted to keep Belle safe, she'd asked for _privacy_, and he found himself hurrying up the stairs to the caretakers apartment when he could still hear Belle's quiet voice arguing with her father.

_Oh Gods,_ He thought to himself. _What if he forbids her from seeing me? _

_She's a grown woman,_ His mind hissed back. _Don't be an idiot._

He had no idea what to do with himself once he arrived in the loft; it was still occupied, after all, and Moe's things littered the small space. If he hid there without something to do, knowing Belle was fighting a battle below his feet he'd go crazy, and so he occupied himself looking it over with a critical eye to ignore the anxiety bubbling in his stomach.

It would be a good, solid one-bedroom apartment once all of the other mans things were gone and he was able to gut the place. The carpets needed replacing, the walls could use paint, but all in all, it wouldn't cost him much to fix. At the pride he'd paid, he could afford to make a nice profit off of it. He wondered how quickly he could throw the man out, and if Belle would argue against him removing the man forcibly right that moment. It was her _father_, after all, but if he recalled correctly she'd said they weren't close.

Gold paced the living room until he could no longer hear the unintelligible sound of the family quarrelling downstairs, and then he hesitantly descended, listening for any sign that he was still unwelcome in the dispute.

He was nearly to the door of the workroom that led to the shop when Moe's voice caught his ear, and he stumbled to a stop.

"Belle," Her father was whispering. "Does he have something over you?"

Belle's voice was exasperated but sincere. "Papa, he _cares_ about me. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"

"Belle, that man doesn't _care_ for anything but himself and his own selfish goals. Haven't you heard the stories?"

Gold's ignored the guilt that chewed at him for eavesdropping on such a private conversation, but that didn't stop him from pressing closer to the door when Belle spoke. "Papa, he's not _like_ that. Those stories-"

"You lived outside of town, Belle. You don't know the things that man is capable of. Whatever happened with Gaston, I'm sure he'd take you back if you just asked-"

Belle's voice was suddenly hard. "I don't want to go back to Gaston, Papa. I didn't _love_ Gaston. He didn't make me happy."

"But this man does?" Her father demanded, and Gold's breath caught. "Does Mr. Gold make you happy? Are you in _love _with him, Belle?"

There was a long pause; long enough that Gold had to resist the urge to crush his ear against the door and snarl in frustration, but Belle eventually spoke.

"He makes me happy," She responded slowly, and he could all but see her twisting her fingers together in his mind, the same way she always did when she was nervous. "And I care more about him than I ever did for Gaston, Papa."

"But do you love him, girl?" Her father asked. He sounded defeated, like all the life had been squeezed out of him at his daughters confession.

Her response was so quiet Gold almost didn't catch it, and the guilt that swam in his belly at hearing it made him ill. He should be out there, holding her. _He _should be the one asking her those questions, not her angry old Papa. "I don't know. I can see myself falling in love with him, Papa. He isn't the only one who cares."

Whatever her father responded, it was lost on Gold. Belle could love him. Belle _cared _for him. The world stopped, and when it started again it was as if his whole body was rushing to catch up; his heart was _pounding. _He was shaken when he emerged from the other room a moment later, and the alarmed look Belle gave him over her father's shoulder was only confirmation of her words. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, hoping she wouldn't ask if he'd overheard the conversation. He wasn't in the habit of lying to Belle, and he was half-sure that even if he tried to pretend otherwise, Belle would notice.

"Everything okay in here?" He asked, trying and failing for a lighthearted tone. Belle's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but their gazes only held for a moment before Moe turned to him and planted his feet.

"You're a beast, Gold." The man growled, crossing his arms. "First you take the town, then you steal my little Belle. You're older than _me_, God damnit. I shudder to imagine you pawing at her-"

"Papa!" Belle exclaimed, but the older man waved her off, instead moving to put his face inches from Golds.

"You have no right to be with my daughter. _No right._ You don't deserve her-"

"I know that." Gold responded, and surprise flitted across Moe's face before the beady eyed man jabbed him hard in the chest with a pudgy finger.

"And you never will. I don't understand why my little girl wants to be with you, but you do _not_ have my blessing."

Gold's response was ice, and the contrite look on Belle's face only made it colder. "I never asked for your _blessing. _We aren't _married._ I've never needed it."

Moe's hands bunched into fists. "If so much as a hair on her head is ever hurt by you-"

"I don't need a threat from _you _to make me treat her right, Moe." Gold's voice was a growl; animalistic and full of hatred, and he was relieved when Belle stepped between the two of them to keep them apart.

"Please don't fight," She begged.

"There is nothing to fight about," He responded mildly, stepping past Belle to gather up Moe's paperwork and deposit it into his briefcase, feeling the other man glaring daggers into his back the entire time.

He nodded towards her father when the clasps on the briefcase closed.

"I'll have a copy of the paperwork forwarded to you tomorrow morning, along with a cashiers check for the full amount." He took Belles hand in his own, smirking at him. "I expect you out by the end of next week. It's been nice doing business with you, Mr. French."

The other man glowered at him. "Just get out."

He followed Belle obediently out of the store when she tugged on his hand, feeling her fingers trembling beneath his own when he squeezed reassuringly, and she took him by complete surprise when, out of view of her father, she burst into tears.

"Belle?" He cried, wrapping his arms around her small form and flinching when she pressed her face against his neck, feeling her hot tears touch his skin. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I'm _angry._ He told me he wanted me to get back with _Gaston." _She whimpered. "He wouldn't listen—He kept saying you had me bewitched. That you were a beast. He doesn't even know you!"

"You probably scared the poor man half to death. Parents always want what's best for their children, Belle." Gold murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. "And I'm not by any means what is _best_ for you."

He stepped back when Belle pushed at his chest, and he watched as she swiped an arm across her eyes angrily. "It's not fair that other people you treat you that way. You _aren't_ a beast."

Belle was upset on _his_ behalf, because of something her own father had said. It simply would not do. He switched tactics.

The hapless smile was on his face before he could stop it, and he gestured towards himself. "If you say so."

That stopped her, and she sniffled once before looking up at him with watery eyes. "What-What did you just say?"

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss under each eyelid to dry the last of her tears. "If you say I'm not a beast, than I'm inclined to believe you."

She looked perplexed, her blue eyes wide as she stared at him. "Why?"

He shrugged, taking her hand in his again before squeezing and giving her a smile. "You've never been wrong before. If you say I'm not a beast, I guess I just have to trust you."

Her lower lip trembled, but she smiled and gave him a shaky laugh. "You're unbelievable."

"No, I'm an ass." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before winking. "_You're _the unbelievable one, remember?"

The shaky laugh she rewarded him with dispelled any remaining darkness in his mood, and she pressed her lips against his even as she swatted at him. "You really are an ass."

The reminder that Belle could find herself falling in love with him hit him like a ton of bricks, and he was grinning by the time she leaned back.

"What?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing."

"You look like a kid that's just won a candy store." She teased, taking hold of his hand again, and he was overwhelmingly pleased that with all the commotion she seemed to have forgotten her fear that he'd overheard her conversation. "Spill it."

He was about to shake his head before an idea came to mind, and his glee only intensified. "I just remembered that you owe me a date, that's all. And I think I'd like to cash it in."

She suddenly looked wary and suspicious all over again, and she narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "Why do I get the feeling that I should be concerned?"

His grin was wolfish and predatory. She had every right to be concerned; there was no way in hell he was going to mess up this time. There would be no losing track of time, no fourty five minutes lost, no Granny's diner or apology flowers. Belle could find herself loving him, and he wasn't going to leave anything to chance. "Because technically it's our first, Belle. And first dates should always be memorable. What are you doing tonight?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him, but she was doing a poor job of hiding the smile playing on her lips. "Does it honestly matter?"

"No." He responded, his eyes glimmering. "It honestly doesn't."

"Well," She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. "Then I guess that I'm going on a date."

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**Hey guys! Sorry this chapter was a little late, but I hope you enjoy it! :) Would love to hear what you think, as per usual. Who is excited for Lacey next week?! I know I am. **

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**Please don't forget to check out my other story, Fable, if you're interested! Thank you again for all your kind words!**


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